


It's him. It's Doctor Novak.

by WaywardAddy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardAddy/pseuds/WaywardAddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While making a gift for Sam and Jess, Dean injures himself and winds up in the hospital under the care of Dr. Castiel Novak. Though totally 106% straight, he finds himself using any excuse possible to wind up at that hospital again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dr. Novak

_A/N: Hello lovely people, welcome to my first offical fanfic! I have a handfull of these chapters already written, but I'll be spacing them out so you'll get two chapters a week for now. Sounds fair, right? Anyway, enough with that, enjoy the first chapter!_

* * *

Dean Winchester stared at his unfinished creation. Sawdust covered the cement floor of his garage and various tools were spread across the small table beside him. He ran a hand through his messy wheat-colored hair in frustration and slammed his dysfunctional power drill on the table. His open beer knocked over from the impact and sprayed onto the floor.

“Dammit,” Dean muttered, quickly grabbing the bottle before any more could spill out. He sat down on the metal chair behind him and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his sleeve. He closed his eyes, and listened to his own breathing for a moment in an attempt to calm himself. After a few seconds, he felt large hands grab his shoulders and shake him violently.

“EARTHQUAKE!!” He heard the voice behind him yell, and he jumped out of his chair. Dean turned around to watch his younger brother laugh his ass off, pointing a long tan finger at Dean’s chest.

“Jesus, Sam! Don’t—“  Dean frowned as the younger Winchester gasped for air.

“Your FACE! Oh my God!” When Sam regained his breath, Dean remembered that Sam was supposed to be at work, not in his brother’s house.

“What are you doing here, Sammy?”

“Oh, the case I was working on got dropped,” Sam waved his hand dismissively. “I get the next few days off. I thought I’d stop by and see you since it’s been, like, three weeks.”

Dean nodded. He knew that three weeks was a long time without seeing his baby bro, as they were closer than most siblings. He saw Sam’s gaze hover over the wooden project behind Dean. His eyes grew wide and he shuffled awkwardly. _Crap._

“Dean are you building…a _crib_?” Dean sighed and nervously scratched at his neck. _Well,_ he thought, _he was gonna find out eventually._

“It was…it was supposed to be a surprise,” Dean admitted.

“Oh man,” Sam’s face softened as he stepped closer and rested his hand on the crib. “All this work,” He turned to face Dean. “Stores _do_ sell this kind of thing you know.”

“Ain’t no baby of mine’s gonna sleep in some IKEA piece of crap,” Dean scoffed. Sam chuckled, and Dean became aware of what he just said. “Well…baby of my brother’s,” he corrected. Sam thought he detected a hint of sadness in the older Winchester’s voice, but he let it go.

“This means a lot, Dean.” Dean was far from short, yet Sam still towered over him. “And I know Jessica’s gonna love it.” Sam’s wife Jess was nearly five months pregnant now with their first child. Dean was possibly more excited than the parents, but he tried not to show it too much. Sam reached out to him for a hug, but was playfully shoved away.

“Aw come on.”

“No dude. I don’t do that chick-flick moments.”

“Fine then. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean smiled as he turned back to his table of tools. “You know I would have this thing finished by the weekend, except my shitty drill isn’t working.” He picked up the drill and pressed and released the button several times.

“Is it charged?” Sam offered.

“No Sherlock, thank you. I would have never thought of that,” Dean retorted with overflowing sarcasm. Dean had charged it, checked the battery, checked the tension, and did everything else he could possibly think of. He absent-mindedly began dusting off the sawdust stuck on the drill bit. “…And don’t ask me about buying another one because this one is still new. I’m sure it still works, I just gottaaaAAAAAAHFUCKINGSHIT!!!”

Dean and Sam both froze. Dean looked up at Sam with green eyes as large as saucers. Sam mirrored the look, but was more focused on his brother’s hand.

“I guess the drill works,” Sam muttered without blinking.

* * *

 

The drive to the hospital took about eight minutes, and the boys were silent for most of the ride. Dean’s left hand was tightly wrapped in a towel, the latter of which was soaked through with blood. After parking outside the emergency room, Sam led Dean through the glass doors and up to the counter.

“Welcome to Lawrence Memorial Hospital!” chirped a female receptionist with a too-white smile. “How can I help you?”

Sam hitched a thumb towards Dean. “My brother accidentally um, drilled his hand.” Dean shot a nasty look at Sam’s back for making him sound stupid, but he knew there was no other way of explaining it.

The woman’s thin eyebrows furrowed, and she glimpsed at Dean’s towel-covered hand. “Oh dear. Looks like we got another oopsie.” She gave Dean a concerned look that would normally be seen by a child. _Oopsie?_ Dean thought. _This ain’t no “oopsie” Blondie. It hurts like hell._

After asking them some routine questions, her smile returned. “Go ahead and have a seat, you should be admitted very very shortly!”

Luckily, the waiting room was almost empty, so they wouldn’t have to wait long. A mother and her child who was vomiting blood into a bucket were taken into an admittance room as soon as Dean sat down, and across from him, a girl lay across one of the sofas. She grimaced as she watched the television, and Dean guessed her foot must have been broken because she rest the swollen limb on an armrest.

“It’s amazing how that receptionist can be so happy while dealing with people in agony all day long,” Sam commented, who seemed to steal the words right out of Dean’s mouth.

“She’s fucking sadistic, that’s what it is,” Dean mumbled, wincing from the throbbing pain his hand created. He glanced over at the woman, who was still smiling widely even though no one was speaking with her. Sam followed his gaze and shivered. “It’s possible,” he agreed.

When a nurse handed the two a healthy stack of paperwork, Sam insisted that Dean sign what he needed then go ahead and see the doctor while Sam filled out the rest. Dean would normally be polite and protest, but he was desperate to get some help. A red-headed nurse who introduced herself as Anna guided Dean to the ER and sat him down on a bed in one of the sectioned-off areas for patients. She removed the towel and examined his injury.

“Well…it didn’t make it the whole way through, which is good, but you’ll most definitely need stitches,” she said.

“Trying to do my job Anna?” The deep, gravelly voice came from a dark-haired man with vividly cerulean eyes. He was surprisingly good looking, probably around his early thirties – about the same age as Dean.

“Doctor Novak!” she exclaimed, and stood up straight. “I thought you were busy right now.” The doctor ignored her, instead waving his hand to dismiss her. She nodded her goodbye to Dean and scurried away. Dean was somewhat disappointed, he thought she was kind of cute.

“Dean Winchester. 31. Hand injury.” The doctor looked up from the file he was reading and squinted at the gaping hole in his patient’s left hand. “Oh God, why hasn’t anyone at least tried to stop the bleeding yet?” The doctor sounded disappointed that his nurses couldn’t at least give the guy an armband or ice pack or something. Dean was thankful that someone was finally more worried about treatment than paperwork.

* * *

 

Three hours later, Dean found himself in the post-op room. He had surgery to remove the tiny wooden shards stuck deep inside his palm, and stitches to close up the hole. Drowsy from the anesthesia, he open his eyes to see Dr. Novak staring down at him.

“Y-you have pretty eyes,” drawled Dean. His mind was bouncing all over the place and he couldn’t focus, but if there’s one thing he knew, it’s that Dr. Novak was one attractive man.

“Hi Dean. Your operation is over now. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. I-I’m like Jesus.”

Dr. Novak rubbed his scruff in confusion. “What was that?”

“Jesus,” Dean repeated. “All I need is two more holes.” The doctor shook his head, smiling to himself. Loopy patients were sometimes quite entertaining.

Suddenly Dean was cackling loudly. “Jesus was _holey_!!! HAHAH!!”

“I want you to rest a little bit longer, Dean. After that I’ll let your brother see you,” the doctor said gently. Dean then closed his eyes and relaxed. Dr. Novak turned to go get nurse Anna to watch over him, when he heard Dean speak again.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Sexy M.D.? You remind me of him. ‘Cause…’Cause you’re a doctor.” Dean then giggled like a schoolgirl. “And you’re sexy.”


	2. Dr. Awkward

After a brief nap, Dean was up again and back to himself. Nurse Anna removed the I.V. and bandaged the area, so now he had gauze on both hands.

“Tell you what, when I got up this morning, I did not see myself spending four hours in a hospital.” Dean looked up at the pretty red-headed nurse and gave her his best smile. “Say _Anna,_ ” --he said her name like it tasted like pie-- “Where do you see yourself tomorrow night?”

The nurse looked down at the floor and blushed. “Well I don’t have any—“

“Dean! You’re up,” Dr. Novak suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Look who I’ve brought.”

Sam entered the room with Jess in tow. When she saw him, she ran to his bedside.

“Oh Dean! Sam told me everything that happened, are you alright?”

“I feel okay, but I’ve taken a lot of drugs so…” Dean noticed that Anna had left the room, and the doctor was getting Sam to sign some discharge papers.

“What were you doing building a birdhouse anyway?”

_A birdhouse? Thanks for not giving away the surprise but a birdhouse??_ Dean made a mental note to kill Sam later.

“Looks like we’re all set,” declared Dr. Novak. “Your follow-up appointment will be next Wednesday and we’ll remove your stitches on the 26th of this month…but for now, you can go home.”

When the doctor looked at Dean, it was a kind of funny expression that almost looks like he was reading him. When Dean returned the gaze the doctor quickly turned away and sort of shifted awkwardly. _I wonder what all that’s about,_ Dean wondered briefly.

On the ride home, Sam told Dean a funny story about a dude in the waiting room, and how he spilt coffee on himself and cussed out a nurse. Dean laughed at all the right moments, but his mind wandered to Anna and Dr. Novak. _She sure acted weird around him. Heh, maybe they’re together. Maybe they broke up. God, I should have gotten her number. Well I get to go back next Wednesday so I’ll be sure and see her and Dr. Blue-eyes._ Dean stopped himself at that thought. _Dr. Blue-eyes? Might as well call him Dr. Sexy—_

“When are we going to go nursery shopping, Sam?” Jess asked her husband, suddenly excited at the thought. Sam eyed Dean in his rear-view mirror, and then responded to his wife.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? You’ve still got another 20 weeks to go.”

“Is really so bad to be ready?”

“Jess, we haven’t even painted yet,” Sam pointed out, avoiding her pleading eyes. They had agreed to paint after finding out the gender of the baby, which would be very soon.

“We could at least look around, right?” Sam knew that if Jess found a nursery set she liked, it would be hard to convince her of using the crib Dean poured his blood, sweat and tears for…literally.

“Maybe next week, if I get a day off.”

“But you’re off for the rest of this week!”

Dean felt bad for putting his brother through this, so he decided to interject.

“Sam told me he would give me a hand around the house this week since I’m a little um, short-handed.” Dean wrinkled his nose at his own puns.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Is that what I said?”

“Yeah, uh, when you drove me to the hospital.” Dean smiled at him, smug with his own cleverness.

“Well okay then,” Jess decided. “I suppose I could give up my Sammy for a few days.” She winked at him, and took the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “You can just drop me off at the house then.”

“I doubt Dean needs me right now. It’s almost dinner time.” Dean could see Sam shaking his head in the mirror.

 

“What’s the matter, Sammy? Can’t cook your bro dinner every once in a while? Besides, I might need some extra help now with that birdhouse.” Suddenly feeling guilty for Dean’s injury, Sam agreed to go home with him. They had to get that birdhouse done, after all.

* * *

 

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Dean was feeling pretty good. With Sam’s help, the crib was now complete. He was impressed by the lawyer’s work, considering his limited knowledge of construction. The two had painted it white, and Dean was sure to remind Sammy the importance of brushstroke direction. Sam had teased him for being so artsy.

Dean’s boss at the auto repair shop, Bobby Singer, got a kick out of the power drill mishap, and forgave him for taking a couple of weeks off. Dean was like a son to him, and he promised to call and check up on him a few times.

When Dean drove to the hospital, it took a little bit longer than usual in his state of mostly one-handedness. Six miles and a crappy parking job later, Dean sat in a room with Dr. Novak.

“What’s the pain level?” The blue-eyed doctor asked, standing just a little too close to Dean. Not that he minded, the doctor smelled kind of nice. Like trees. And latex.

“It’s still a dull soreness so like…a four?” Dr. Novak nodded as he scribbled on his clipboard.

“Have you experienced any other burning or itching in the area?” Dean remembered the last time a doctor asked him that question, but that time “the area” was far from his hand. He chuckled silently at the memory. “Nope,” he answered.

“And…what is your relationship status?” Dean was caught off guard by the question, and stared at the doctor, who peered back at him expectantly.

“What does that have to do with my pain?”

The doctor shrugged. “It’s just…procedures.” Dean sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin.

“At the moment, I’m single.”

“No kids or anything?” the doctor asked, but he wasn’t writing anything down.

“Nope. You probably noticed last time that my sister-in-law is expecting. You could say I’m pretty excited about it, but that’s the closest I’ll probably get to being a father,” Dean admitted. He didn’t know why he was telling his doctor all of this, the guy probably didn’t give a rat’s ass.

“You don’t want kids of your own?” Dr. Novak was now seated across from Dean, the clipboard was out of sight. Dean didn’t see any point in lying to the guy, so he spilled his heart out.

“Sure I do, but I’m getting to that age where women don’t wanna take me seriously. The younger ones are all taken or have established lifestyles and the older ones are so desperate that they don’t care about getting to know me. I don’t have the best track record, so all the women that know me don’t wanna touch me with a ten foot pole.” Dean was suddenly aware how whiney he sounded. “Life would be so much easier if I was gay, am I right?”

Dr. Novak looked down at his shoes and Dean stood up. “So are we done here?”

The doctor stood up as well, and for a moment he looked as if he didn’t know what planet he was on. “Yes, I think that’s about all we need.”

“Well, it was certainly nice seeing you again Dr. Novak,” Dean said, and mentally face-palmed himself for his choice of phrase.

“Please,” the doctor smiled again, “You can call me Castiel.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “So we’re on a first-name basis now, eh Doc?” He winced at yet another weird sentence to come out of his mouth. _Am I trying to flirt with my doctor?_ He wondered to himself.

At that moment, nurse Anna popped her head into the room. “Dr. Novak, there’s a patient waiting to see you.” She noticed Dean and smiled at the floor. “Hey Dean.”

Before he could respond, she disappeared down the hall. Like she was intimidated by her superior.

“So tell me…Castiel,” Dean turned his attention back to the doctor. “Were you and Miss Anna ever, y’know, a thing?” He emphasized the words with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Castiel gave Dean a curious look, then smiled arrogantly. “Oh Anna? No sir, she _wishes_ she was my type.” He punctuated his sentence with a wink.

Dean glanced at him sideways with a question in his eyes. Castiel then looked away with sudden interest in a painting on the wall. He appeared to mentally scold himself the same way Dean was earlier.

To avoid any other awkward moments, Dean thanked the doctor and left. He had one more hospital visit to go before he would never have to see the man again. Maybe he could manage to turn his auto-flirt feature off for a day. Hopefully.

 

 


	3. Dr. Perfect

It was a cool, starry night. Dean lay out on the hood of his black ’67 Chevy Impala, and he’d never felt more at peace. His left hand had rapidly healed and his right held a cold beer.

“This is perfect, Dean,” the voice next to him said. Dean turned to see Castiel Novak smiling brightly at him. His eyes were twinkling as much as the stars above. His fingers stroked Dean’s face and couldn’t take his focus away from his mouth.

“Despite the situation, I’m happy that we met.” Castiel’s fingers moved down from Dean’s face, his lips, his neck, to his chest. “So handsome…”

Then Castiel was kissing him hard on the mouth, the world started spinning faster and his hands went up Dean’s shirt and the doctor’s breath on his neck, Dean grabbed at his belt and then he moaned and kissed and tugged and—

Dean darted awake. _What. The fuck._ He rubbed his eyelids as the details of the dream flooded his mind. His body felt a little weird and when he looked down, he cursed to himself. He had an unwelcome erection, and an even more unwelcome dream. He buried his face into his healthy hand. _Why him? Why Dr. Novak?_ Dean had never been sexually attracted to a dude, and he didn’t expect to start in his thirties. He glimpsed at the small orange bottle on his bedside table. _I bet that’s what it is…the drugs. Yep. That explains it. Too many pain meds._

He pulled himself out of bed and checked his phone.

“Well shit,” he said to himself when he realized that the following day he would have to go get his stitches taken out. He opened a message from Sam-

_Hey, Jess can’t seem to wait any longer for furniture shopping. Maybe you can bring it over today?? Thx._

Dean sighed and dialed Bobby’s number. It rang twice before he heard the southern drawl on the line.

“Hey Bobby, how are you?”

“Whatcha want boy?” Bobby knew Dean didn’t call for a friendly chat.

“I kinda need a favor,” Dean asked, biting his lip. He knew that Bobby would do anything for him, but he still hated asking him for help.

“Yeah. I gathered that much. Go on.”

“You know that crib I was building for Sam’s kid? Well it won’t exactly fit in my car—“

“Ya need to borrow one of my trucks. I get it.”

“Yeah. And I uh-“

“-need my help getting it over there,” Bobby finished for him. “I wasn’t gonna let you drive my truck anyway. I ain’t an idjit.”

Dean smiled. Bobby always tried to seem hard-as-nails on the surface, but he was really just a big teddy bear.

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Whatever. I’m heading over to your house now.”

“Okay, see you in a few minutes.” Dean ended the call and sat back down on his bed still feeling very uncomfortable about his dream. Dean looked back at the orange pill bottle. It was empty. It had been empty for two days now.

 

* * *

 

“Bobby!” Sam greeted cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know it. How ya doing, Sam?” Bobby walked up to Sam and shook his hand.

“Good. Jess will be home in about 15 minutes so we gotta get this thing inside.”

Sam and Bobby got the crib out of the truck and carried it to the decided nursery with Dean as the guide.

“Sure you wanna keep it there? I know you haven’t painted yet,” inquired Dean.

“It’s alright. We’ll just put the tarp back on it,” Sam said, pointing with his head towards the plastic cover Dean slipped on the crib so it wouldn’t get dirty.

The piece of furniture barely fit through the doorway, they actually had to remove the door temporarily in order to fit it through. As Dean was slipping the pikes back into the hinges, the men heard the garage door opening.

“Right here’s good,” Sam muttered in a strained voice, as the crib had quickly become quite heavy. They set it down against one of the walls and Sam hurried to help Dean with the door.

“I got it Sam, go greet your wife,” Bobby told him.

Sam walked quickly towards the hall, which the garage was adjacent to. He heard the door of her Nissan shut and the clank of her high heels on the floor. When Jess came into the hall, Sam was posing somewhat awkwardly with a fist on his hip and a hand in his longish brown hair.

“Hey babe,” she greeted as she pecked him on the lips. “Whose truck is that in the front?”

“About that,” he started. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh really?” She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“Yeah so um, close your eyes,” he instructed.

“Oh so it’s a surprise?” she asked, her smile growing wider.

“Yeah, kinda.” Jess did as he requested and she let Sam guide her to the nursery.

“Okay, open up.”

Her eyes snapped open and he heard her quick intake of breath. The crib was beautiful; it had tall corner posts with rounded tops and a bowed backboard with BABY WINCHESTER engraved into it. Jess’s hand was clasped around her mouth and she could feel tears fill her eyelids. She stepped closer and ran her fingers across the front of it.

“Dean built it for us, Jess,” Sam told her.

“With a little bit of help from Sam,” Dean allowed. He subconsciously touched his scar.

“Dean this is…“ her voice cracked and a tear fell down her cheek. “This is...”

_Oh please no._ Dean hated it when people cried, even if it was happy tears. _Please no tears._ Tears were just too damn contagious.

“It’s so beautiful I don’t even know what to say.” She opted for hugging him tightly to express her gratitude. She suddenly pulled back in realization. “And your hand! You put yourself in the hospital over this crib!”

At the mention of the hospital, Dean’s mind went to Castiel and the dream he had. The thought made him shudder, and Jess misinterpreted this bodily response.

“O gosh Dean I’m so sorry!!”

“It’s no one’s fault Jess, it was just a freak accident,” Sam said in an attempt to relieve her guilt. And some of his own.

“I’m fine, Jessica. I get my stitches out tomorrow and then we can all move on with our lives. I’m happy I got to do something for you two…two and a half.”

Jess’s hand went to her belly. “I have an Ultrasound this weekend.” She glanced back at Sam and then to Dean again. “We get to find out the sex!” she beamed. Dean’s heart did a little jump at the news. It didn’t matter to him whether it was a boy or girl, but knowing the gender led to giving he or she a name, and a name makes the whole thing became so much more real. Also baby clothes. Even a full grown man can appreciate how cute baby clothes are.

 

* * *

 

The following morning arrived, and Dean once again found himself in a room waiting for Dr. Novak. Castiel. Whatever.

Anna was asking him some questions about pain, medication, and his health insurance. For whatever reason, she was less bashful than she usually was around Dean.

“So Anna,” Dean looked up at the brown eyed beauty with a teasing grin. “Fill me in…is it possible that you have a thing for Dr. Novak?”

She gawked at him. “Uh, no I don’t have a ‘thing’ for Castiel.” Her eyes lingered at him for a moment, then back at her clipboard.

“Well if you did, I really couldn’t blame you-“

“Are you even straight?” she blurted without thinking.

_Who lit the fuse on her tampon?_ Dean wondered. He smirked and glanced sideways at the wall.

“Because…YOU sure seem like the one with a ‘thing’ for Castiel,” she snapped, and quickly looked down in embarrassment. Dean looked back at her with disbelief. “Am I sensing some jealousy, sweet cheeks?”

“EXCUSE me?” She gritted her teeth. “Don’t you call me-“  –she stopped herself when she noticed Dean’s stunned facial expression. She lowered her voice and chuckled quietly. “At least you admit it. And you’re in luck, because Dr. Novak just so happens to be—“

“Good morning Dean,” Castiel greeted from the doorway. He always seemed to pop in at the best moments.

“Cas! Aren’t we all so glad to see you?” Anna snickered behind her clipboard, and Dean became aware that it was probably from the little nickname he gave Castiel. He decided to get her back. “Anna just can’t seem to stop talking about you.”

She glared at Dean, then turned to the doctor. “Dean here is trying to convince me that you’ve got this whole ‘Doctor Sexy’ vibe going on. I don’t get it, but he seems insistent.”

Castiel’s eyes grew large. Anna gently pushed him aside and walked out the door without another peek at Dean.

Castiel froze for a moment to comprehend what Anna had said. His speechless patient nervously picked at a tiny thread hanging off his jeans.

“So, stitches!” Castiel said suddenly. Dean thought it possible that the doctor decided to forget the last minute. “I bet you’re ready to get ‘em out and never come back here again!”

Dean nodded enthusiastically. He didn’t mind seeing Castiel, it was the back-n-forth that he disliked. And now that bitchy nurse, too.

Castiel sat in the rolly-chair his nurse vacated and rolled towards Dean. He pulled on a new pair of latex gloves and picked up some forceps.

“This shouldn’t hurt, so don’t worry,” he told Dean. Dean watched as Castiel interlaced their fingers so that the palm would be stretched. _I got to first base with my doctor. Score._ Dean thought. At this point, Dean had given up trying to figure out if his attraction to Cas was for real or merely a result of jealousy. He could lie to the world, but he couldn’t lie to himself that he kinda wanted to bone the guy.

Castiel expertly pulled out the stitches and was finished in no time.

“Looky there, we’re all done,” he said with a small smile. He affectionately held Dean’s hand in both of his own, resulting in a mini-war in Dean’s brain. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or if he wanted Cas to please, please, _please_ pull his hands away. For a moment, the men stared at each other without moving a muscle. The air hung still, and all outside sounds were zoned out. Dean soaked in the image of Castiel. His ebony sex-hair. His gorgeous cerulean eyes. His soft pink lips. His day old stubble. His slightly split chin. “Dean.” His deep sexy voice. “Dean?” The way he said his name. “Dean are you alright?”

Dean snatched back his hand and blinked rapidly to regain his focus. Hiding a smile, Castiel stood to appropriately address his patient.

“Since you’re okay, I should go see my other patients.”

“Yeah of course.” Dean nodded, unable to look the doctor in his eyes. Cas went to leave but stopped in the doorway. He was laughing.

“What is it?” asked Dean, beginning to feel self-conscious.

“Doctor Sexy M.D.”

Dean gulped. Surely he didn’t believe what Anna had said. The lying bitch.

Cas turned back to Dean. “If we ignore the ridiculous amount of inaccuracies regarding a typical hospital atmosphere,” –Castiel gave Dean a gleaming grin- “It’s actually a pretty good show.”

On that note, Castiel vanished from the room. Dean was –in the manliest way possible- swooning.

“Why is he so damn perfect?” he wondered aloud.


	4. Dr. Cutie

The following night, Dean shoveled lasagna into his cakehole. He couldn’t help it, his sister in law was a really good cook.

“Don’t worry Dean. There’s plenty left in the dish if you wanna…slow down a bit,” Sam said to his brother. Jess didn’t mind. It was a compliment, and she wasn’t really bothered by anything tonight, she was too excited for her Ultrasound that weekend. They would know the baby’s sex, they would paint his or her room, they would start buying the rest of the furniture…everything would fall into place.

“Lawrence Memorial is a really nice facility, isn’t it Dean?” she smiled at him across the table.

Dean was momentarily confused by the question, he thought they were still on the topic of his table manners. “Yeah I guess so,” he responded.

Sam turned to his wife. “Their obstetrics wing or whatever, that’s off of the Maine Street entrance, right?”

While the two discussed, Dean stopped mid-chew. _Lawrence Memorial. Castiel._ His heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing him again. Well, this wasn’t exactly _his_ opportunity to go back…unless he could find a way to get invited…

“Not gonna lie Jess, this’ll be a big moment for all of us,” Dean said between bites. “You have to promise me you’ll call as soon as you know if the kid will learn ballet or baseball.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

Sam glanced from Dean to Jess. “Why don’t you just come with us? I know you don’t work Saturdays anyway,” he offered, and Dean hid a victorious grin. _He took the bait._

“No no, I know it’s supposed to be an intimate family moment,” Dean protested with a fictitious frown.

“But you are family. Jess and I would love to have you there.”

Dean peeked at Jess, her smiling nod giving him permission to accept the offer. “Only if you insist,” he said with a shrug. _Score._ Dean knew that her appointment and Castiel would be on opposite sides of the hospital, but if he was there anyway, he would HAVE to say hi to his angel in scrubs, right? Of course he did.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t BELIEVE Sam is going to miss this,” Jess pouted. She and Dean were sitting in his Impala, on the way to her Ultrasound appointment. “I don’t care that he has ‘an emergency meeting with a client,’ I want my husband with me today!”

“It sucks, but I guess he has no control over what happens with work,” Dean commented, though deep down, something was weird about the situation. Dean knew his brother better than he knew himself, and when Sam told Dean and Jess about being dragged away with client drama, something was not right. His voice, his behavior…he acted the way he did when he was lying. Dean shoved the thought down. He desperately wanted to give his brother the benefit of the doubt.

 

“Dean, this is Dr. Gabriel, my Ultrasound tech,” Jess introduced after they arrived at the hospital. “Doctor, this my brother-in-law, Dean.”

“Pleasure to meet you sir,” said the shifty-eyed doctor. His dark brown hair was slicked back and he had this little grin that made you think he knew something you didn’t. “Where’s ol’ Sammy at, Jessica?”

“Oh, he had a work thing he couldn’t get out of,” she explained hastily. Dean thought he might of heard a tiny bit of doubt in her voice. “But I’m happy Dean was able to come here with me,” she said, giving her brother-in-law a side hug. Dean returned the little half-hug, earning a suspicious sideways stare from Dr. Gabriel.

“Why don’t you just lay down and we’ll get started,” the doctor said slowly.

Dean watched as the doctor squirted what appeared to be blue Jell-O on Jess’s exposed belly, while she chewed her lip nervously. He was crouched next to her to get a better view of the screen, and he felt her squeeze his arm. Through her fingers, he could feel her heart pound as Dr. Gabriel lowered the transducer thingy onto her gelled-up skin. Dean and Jess were both deathly silent as the doctor moved the transducer across her stomach.

“Well would you look at that,” said Dr. Gabriel.

“What is it??” Jess asked in a panicky tone.

“You see that moving part there? That’s a hand. The baby is waving at you. It’s saying ‘hi mommy.’” Dean wrinkled his nose at the doctor’s cheesiness. He squinted at the screen, but the image didn’t exactly look human to him.

Dr. Gabriel’s hand moved sideways on her belly, giving them a side shot of the baby. Dean shivered now that he could see its facial features…sort of. Jess smiled and gently swatted Dean’s arm.

“You see that? It looks just like your brother,” Jess observed. Dean turned his head sideways to get another angle, but still couldn’t see how the hell she could tell it looked like Sam. He pondered for a moment, wondering what pronoun “it” would soon be replaced with. That’s when the doctor spoke up.

“Would you like to know the sex?” Dr. Gabriel had a special glint in his eye, one that screamed I-know-something-you-don’t-know. Jess inhaled a deep shaky breath.

“Do share your knowledge with the rest of the class,” Dean said before Jess could answer.

“Jessica, you’ll be happy to know that your first child will be a beautiful baby boy,” Dr. Gabriel announced with a satisfied grin. Clearly this moment was his favorite part of the job.

Jess clasped her hands over her mouth, though it did nothing to hide her huge smile. _A boy._ Dean thought. _Another male Winchester to join the pack._ Dean couldn’t stop the excited thoughts about the kid’s future from flooding his mind. He thought of taking him fishing, and showing him how to throw a football, and eventually teaching him how to drink and hustle pool…..all the things he knew Sam wouldn’t do. Sam would take care of the silly things, like making good grades and being nice.

Dean pulled out his phone to tell his brother the news.

 

* * *

 

Sam hadn’t answered, and Jess decided she should tell him in person rather than have Dean leave a message on his voicemail.

“Ready to go?” Jess asked Dean after Dr. Gabriel was finished with her.

“Actually, I kinda wanted to see Dr. Novak,” Dean attempted to say as nonchalantly as possible. He knew it sounded weird as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he hoped she wouldn’t question him too much.

“Dr. Novak? The surgeon dude who stitched up your hand, right? What do you want with him? Is your hand hurting?”

Dean searched his mind desperately for an acceptable response. “I-I just never got to tell him thanks. He did a good job taking care of me, and I wanted to let him know.”

He braced himself for further questioning, but Jess’s worried eyes softened. “That’s really sweet of you, Dean. C’mon, let’s go find him.” She hooked her arm through his and pulled him down the hospital corridor. He was surprised she actually fell for that nice guy crap.

As Jess waited in the lobby, Dean spotted a familiar red-haired nurse.

“Do you _live_ here?” he asked Anna, a cocky grin greeting her slight frown. He could understand doctors having ridiculous work hours, but he thought nurses had at least a little bit of a life. That ginger bitch was always on location, however.

“No, but I’m starting to think _you_ do,” she scoffed. “What are you doing here, Dean?”

“Oh, I was just passing by and I thought I would come and say hi.”

Dean thought he saw the faintest smile form on her face, but she looked down at the floor.

“Oh. Hello then,” she said quietly.

“So where’s Castiel?” he asked, not wanting to waste any more time making small talk with Anna. When she looked back up at him, she was frowning again. “Your boyfriend’s a little busy at the moment,” she spat. Dean snorted.

“There’s the Anna that I remember,” he smirked. He hated being mocked by her, but he really wanted to see Cas, so he pressed further.

“Come on, just- where is he?”

“Why?”

“Anna,” he warned. She folded her arms across her chest and huffed in submission.

“He’s finishing up with a patient. He’ll be out in just a minute,” she said, without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks Anna, you’re a real sweetheart.”

“Whatever.”

They stared at each other for a moment just before Dean spotted Castiel out of the corner of his eye.

“There he is,” Dean said to himself as Anna disappeared. His heart began to pound at the sight of him, and he struggled to keep his breathing at a normal rate. It didn’t take long for the doctor to spot the handsome flannel-clad man and he approached with a bright smile.

“Dean Winchester. You’re back.” The two shook hands, Dean shivering slightly at the physical contact. _What’s wrong with you man? Don’t be such a girl,_ he told himself.

“Hey Cas, my brother’s—“ He stopped when he saw Castiel’s mouth twitch at the sound of the nickname. “I’m sorry, I just thought Cas, Castiel—“

“It’s okay Dean,” the doctor interrupted. “You can call me Cas if you want. I really kind of like it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and Cas gave him a tiny, cute little smile. _Cute. Cute?? I’m not supposed to think he’s cute but…God damn his face!_ Dean shook away his thoughts. “Anyway, my brother’s wife had an appointment with Dr. Gabriel today, and I wanted to stop by and say thank you, I guess….I mean I guess say thank you. Wait no, not ‘I guess,’ I _know_ thank you—not ‘no’ thank-you, I mean thanks for taking care of me. Well no, that sounds weird. I mean like—“

Cas held his hands up to stop Dean. “It was my pleasure, Dean.” He let out a small chuckle. “You know, even while you were put under anesthesia, you were such a…. _kind_ patient. I don’t get that all the time.”

Dean wondered for a moment what he meant by that...but he didn’t have to wonder for long.

“You don’t remember what you said at that time, do you?” Cas asked, an amused expression playing across his face.

“No…” Dean answered slowly, afraid to ask what he’s talking about. What could have Dean said that Cas thought was so damn funny?

“Well, first you compared yourself to Jesus,” Cas recalled.

Dean let out a small sigh of relief. _I called myself Jesus? Bitch please. I do that on a regular basis. Next._

Cas blushed suddenly. “You also…you complimented my eyes—thank you by the way, that was very nice—and…well uh, you told me that I’m _sexy_.”

Cas somehow managed to keep eye contact with Dean, even when the other man’s eyes grew wide with shock. _I- whaaa- What did I…? Why the hell would I say all that for?_ The air was tense as they stared at each other. Dean found his voice again.

“Cas I…I’m sorry.” Cas shook his head.

“I’m not looking for an apology, Dean.”

“Then what are you looking for?”

Cas looked down at his feet and shifted nervously. Dean gazed at him incredulously, wondering why Cas brought up the subject in the first place. Why the hell couldn’t he just ignore what Dean said and move on? Pretend it never happened?

“I don’t know, it’s just…you’re a good guy, Dean, and I don’t meet that many good guys I actually like. Not ones like you and I, at least…”

Dean didn’t understand anything Cas was trying to say. _Guys like you and I? For the love of God, Cas, tell me what that means._

“….I wanted to let you know,” Cas continued, “that I reciprocate your feelings and I’d love to get to know you better.”

Then it dawned on Dean. _Holy shit. He’s trying to ask me out. Holy. Freaking. Shit._ He couldn’t explain what his insides were feeling at the moment, or even if it was good or bad. He only knew what his answer to Cas was.

At that moment, Castiel’s medical beeper went off. A pair of nurses burst through the double doors at the end of the hallway rolling a gurney where a screaming man was laid.

“Dr. Novak!!” called a male nurse, running towards Cas. “We need to perform an emergency amputation.”

Castiel sent Dean an apologetic glance, and ran to the operating room where they had taken the patient. Dean stood frozen in place, his eyes fixed in the direction that Cas had disappeared in. _Well Damn. I guess I’ll just have to come back later. Again._


	5. Dr. Spock

Monday evening after work, Dean returned to Lawrence Memorial Hospital, with no reason besides the want to talk to Cas. It was almost 8:30 in the evening by the time Dean pushed through the glass double doors, humming “Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin. After asking a blond doctor about Cas, Dean was pointed in the direction of the cafeteria. He felt a bit embarrassed of himself, searching for the guy all the time. He approached the door of the cafeteria slowly, not wanting Cas to see him come in. He spotted him sitting with a group of nurses near a corner, all sipping coffee. One of the brunette nurses was getting animated with her storytelling, and Dean snuck up to the dessert line while the group was distracted.

“Good evening sir,” greeted a young man standing behind the counter. “What can I get you?”

Dean eyed the variety of pies on display inside the glass counter, all seducing him with their golden crust and fruit-packed middles. With Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” suddenly getting stuck in Dean’s head, he decided, “Light cappuccino and a cherry pie, please.”

Dean was able to sit down with his pie and coffee without Cas noticing him. He pulled a fork out of its plastic wrapping and dug into the pie as if it was the sole reason he came here. After only the third bite however, Dean looked up to see Cas, about forty feet away, squinting at him as if in disbelief. Dean wiggled his fingers at him in a little wave, and giving him an ‘oh, didn’t see you there’ raise of his eyebrows. Cas looked like he might have smiled, but he covered his mouth with his hand. He turned back to the nurses and whispered something, and they all very un-casually turned to look at Dean, giggling uncontrollably. _Shit shit shit Cas, you told them about me, you told them, didn’t you?_ Very aware of being watched, Dean awkwardly sipped his coffee and stared at a fake plant nearby. By the time he looked back, he saw Cas walk across the cafeteria towards him. As he approached, Dean started making a beeping noise, imitating a doctor’s medical pager. “Beep. Beep. Beep. Oh Cas, you’d better go get that. Beep. Beep. Beep.”

“Dean, you must be less frequent with your casual hospital visits, people are starting to think you’re stalking me,” Cas teased with a smile. He peeked over his shoulder at his nurse friends, they were trying -and failing- to appear cool.

“What makes you think I’m _not_?” Dean flirted. He motioned to the chair across from him. “Sit down, stay a while.”

Cas set his own coffee on the table and took the seat. He gazed at Dean with his deep blue eyes, unsure of what to say to him. Dean pointed to his dessert with his fork. “Have you tried this pie?”

“I have. It’s a bit bleak for my taste.”

“Really? ‘Cause I’ve had quite a bit of pie in my time, and this is- this is pretty high up on my delicious pie meter,” Dean said, raising a hand up in the air to show just how high. Cas continued to stare at him, and Dean had the brief urge to grab him by the coat lapels and feast on his pretty little mouth. He tossed his fork onto the table in defeat. “Okay you’re right. This pie sucks.”

Cas looked at Dean with a hint of pity, like he felt bad for him and his shitty pie. “My mother made the best pie in the world,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly. “Luckily, before she died, she taught me most of her recipes.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Castiel Novak. Serious business surgeon, baking extraordinaire.”

Cas shook his head, chuckling lightheartedly. “I’m not the greatest in the baking category, but…” He smiled mischievously at Dean. “…I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

Dean’s tongue poked out between his teeth when he smiled, and Cas grinned back in victory. “Gladly. We’ll have to make an appointment,” Dean replied, chewing the tip of his thumb. Cas’s gaze drifted towards Dean’s mouth, then slowly back to his eyes.

“Why not tomorrow evening? Tuesdays and Thursdays I get off at six,” Cas offered.

“Sounds good.”

“Good.”

“After we watch the new Star Trek movie.”

“Fine.”

“In 3D.”

“Even better.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, grinning like idiots. Over Cas’s shoulder, Dean saw the group of nurses, all peering in their direction trying to figure out what the two were talking about. Instead of glaring back at them, Dean gave them the ‘sup nod and wiggled his tongue in the creepiest, dirtiest way possible, causing them to snap their heads back to their table in embarrassment. Cas snorted and put his hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter while Dean smugly dusted some invisible lint of his shoulders.

Dean reached towards Cas’s chest, which was still shaking from laughter, and pulled a pen out of his front pocket. He unscrunched his napkin and scribbled his phone number onto it. “What did you tell them about me, Cas?”

Cas cleared his throat and looked up at Dean with wide eyes, feigning innocence. “I haven’t really spoken of you, they just like to…assume things.”

Dean glimpsed back at the nurses, who were back to spying on them. “You sure about that?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, reminding Dean of a confused puppy. “I barely know you, Dean. What could I have possibly said to them?”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his empty coffee cup and the remains of his pie. “Whatever, dude. Just uh, text me okay?” Dean stuffed the napkin in Cas’s pocket and threw his trash away. The second he exited the cafeteria, He could hear a series of squeals and “ooooo’s” coming from the nurses. Dean shook his head and smiled to himself. _Said nothing of me? ‘Said nothing’ my ass._

_~_

The next day at work, Dean showed up early in hopes that Bobby would allow him to leave earlier that evening. Dean was great at what he did, to the point where he could run a repair shop of his own, if he really wanted to. The fact that he chooses not to, and since Bobby loves him like a son, Dean was usually allowed to get away with little things like this.

“Whatcha wanna leave early for? Got a hot date?” Bobby asked him with vague annoyance.

“Well, um, kind of, yeah.” Dean answered honestly. Bobby shook his head, knowing that at least a proper date was better than the one-night stands Dean usually took part in.

“How early?”

“Mmmmmaybe around six or six-thirty.”

Bobby sighed. Why he spoiled Dean so much, he had no clue. “Boy, you better work hard and fast this afternoon, or I’m telling you…”

“Thanks Bobby. You’re a wonderful guy.”

“Whatever. What’s her name, anyway?”

Dean paused for a moment. Now was not the time or place to have friendly chat about Dean’s newfound bisexuality, so he answered instead with the first chick name to come to mind. “Her name is Anna.”

“And how exactly did you meet this Anna?”

“She’s a nurse at the hospital that I went to for my hand thing,” said Dean. “Red hair, bangin’ bod.” Dean pressed his lips together and spanked the air. _Most_ of what he was saying was the truth, just not every detail.

“Okay okay,” Bobby held his hand up. “That’s quite enough information.”

“Thanks again, man.” Dean pointed at him with both hands as he walked backwards out of the room.

“Idjit.”

 ~

Just before Dean got off work that evening, he received a text.

_It’s Castiel. Meet me at the Massachusetts Street theater at 6:30._

Dean looked at the time. _5:57._ “Hey Bobby, I’m gonna head out now.”

There was only one customer present at the time, and Bobby had one of the younger mechanics, Adam, to help him out.

“Alright, son. Don’t blow it,” Bobby told him.

Dean hurried home so that he could shower and find some decent clothes to wear. He ended up staring into his closet, naked and dripping wet. _What the fuck are you supposed to wear when you go on a date with another guy? Do I dress nice? Am I supposed to wear cologne?_ His eyes darted from his flannel to his dress shirts, denim to slacks. _Seriously, what the hell do I wear?_ Dean never worried about his clothing when he went out with girls, he didn’t know why it bothered him now. _I need to stop being a girl about this and do whatever I usually do._ He pulled out a nice pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt, and dressed quickly so he wouldn’t have time to think about it too much. He rolled up his sleeves and spritzed on a tiny bit of cologne, just as he would a normal outing. _What in God’s name am I getting myself into?_

_~_

Cas was waiting outside the theater when Dean pulled up in his shiny black Impala. Dean told himself several times to stay cool, but the bubbling nervousness inside his stomach would not fade. There was something…something about Castiel that drained him of his usual confidence. Either way, he managed to swagger over to the front of the theater. Cas was leaning against the brick wall, browsing on his phone, looking effortlessly cool. He wore a sky blue short sleeve button-down, a bit fitted with the top two buttons undone, a shiny Rolex watch, and an expensive pair of jeans – probably designer, not that Dean could really tell. Rather than being simply combed like it usually was, his hair looked like he styled it a bit, with the front of it swept upward. In short—he looked hot. Like, Dean wasn’t sure if he was feeling jealousy or lust, _hot._ Probably a mixture of both.

Cas noticed Dean approach and flashed him a bright smile. His eyes drifted over Dean’s body with obvious satisfaction. “Well hello there, Mr. Abercrombie.”

Dean looked down at his own outfit then back to Cas’s sophisticated one. “We didn’t exactly establish a dress code,” he said defensively.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I think you look great.” He looked up and down Dean once again. “Really great.”

Dean folded his arms across his chest, feeling self-conscious. “Are we going to get tickets or are you gonna stand there drooling at me?”

“I’m going to drool at you,” Cas replied before looking back up at his face. “I’ve already got the tickets.” He held up two _Star Trek: Into Darkness_ tickets and two pairs of 3D glasses.

“You bought my ticket? Oh how _sweet,_ ” Dean said, oozing sarcasm. “You gonna buy me a lovely dinner at the Olive Garden, too?”

“I gotta say Dean, I didn’t take you for a high maintenance one,” Cas teased. Dean made a face at him, and Cas laughed. “No no. I’ll do better than that. But that’ll wait.”

Dean looked at him curiously, wondering what Cas could have prepared for him.

“For right now, we should go inside so we don’t miss the trailers.”

 ~

Besides the slight leaning towards each other and Dean’s arm around Cas’s seat, there really was no PDA in the movie theater between the two. Dean’s silent fanboying throughout the movie seemed to amuse and intrigue his date, and Cas spent a considerable chunk of time staring at Dean’s kid-in-Disneyland facial expressions.

“I don’t know how you can deny it, Dean, but Spock and Kirk are so gay for each other its sad,” Cas stated with vague amusement. They were walking back towards the parking lot now that the movie was over.

“No man, he was totally in love with Uhura. Kirk just kept getting in the way,” argued Dean.

“But that’s the point. He has a soft spot for Kirk, and that’s because he loves him. Uhura really had nothing to do with anything. She served solely as a means of emphasizing what the two truly mean to each other.”

“Whatever you say, Cas.” Dean knew the debate could go on forever if he didn’t stop it. They had now reached Cas’s car, a silver Lexus, and Dean needed to know where they were going before returning to his own car. “Tell me once again where we’re eating.”

“Oh yes. We’re going to my house.” Dean raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“I told you I’d make you pie, so we might as well eat there, too,” Cas clarified. Dean remembered the pie conversation from the day before, but he didn’t think Cas was serious about it. He thought it was his way of flirting (which worked magnificently). This was quite a pleasant surprise.

“We had an appointment,” Cas said with a small smile.

“I’ll just follow you back to your place, then,” Dean decided. “What the hell we standing here for, I’m starving!”


	6. Dr. Charming

39.

39 was the number of one-night stands Dean has had since he was 19 years old. On average, that’s 3.25 each year. Not  _too_  many, until you consider the six committed relationships he was in in the duration of those twelve years, ranging from two weeks to fourteen months each. The number of dates he has gone on in his lifetime, including the ones with the same woman, reaches over 100. In conclusion, one could say Dean had plenty of dating experience. The date he had tonight, however, was one of his very favorites, and one that will make him smile years after the night ends.

* * *

 

Dean followed Cas across town to a pretty blue house on Hartland Drive. He couldn’t rellly tell what it looked like in the darkness, but he could see that it was a bit big for a guy living alone. While Cas pulled into the garage Dean observed the neighborhood.  _Just a perfect little suburban area for an apple pie life,_  he thought.

Cas motioned for him to come in before the garage door closed, and Dean followed obediently. His garage was a lot neater than Dean’s, with a noticeable absence of building tools. As the two entered the main part of the house, Cas flicked on the lights and Dean admired the chill décor and high ceilings. A few photographs on the fireplace mantel caught his eye, and he made his way over to them with sudden curiosity. In one of the photos, a younger Cas wore a set of graduation robes. He stood next to an older smiling woman, who had a slight resemblance to the young man.

“Is that your mother?”

Cas walked over to stand beside Dean, resting an elbow on his shoulder. “Yes sir, at my high school graduation.”

"She was beautiful," Dean commented. The woman had long, flowing blonde hair and the same piercing blue eyes as Cas. Her smile was bright, genuine and proud.

"She really was," Cas said softly. "This was taken four months after my father left, and only five weeks before she passed."

Dean turned to gaze thoughtlessly at the room. Neutral tones, contemporary furniture, abstract paintings and the brick fireplace created a cozy atmosphere. Dean wanted to comfort Cas, but it was difficult trying to that and avoid the topic of his childhood. "I can relate," he said simply.

Cas peered up at him thoughtfully, expecting him to elaborate, but Dean didn't continue. "You haven't really talked about your family."

Dean tensed. Why, why is family a necessary topic of discussion all the time? Why? "My mom died before I made it to kindergarten, and my asshole father kicked it and went to hell four years ago. I'm not about to hold hands and laugh and tell stories about dear old daddy and keeping my brother alive and out of trouble."

Seeing Cas's wounded expression, Dean realized his words came out more bitterly than he expected. "I'm—I'm sorry Cas. It's just- my parents, they weren't a major presence in my childhood." If you'd even call it that, he added silently. Cas drew close to him and rested a hand on his arm. Under his touch, Dean relaxed immediately. "I get it, Dean. And I didn't plan on exchanging stories about absent fathers this evening, I think that would be pretty lame." Cas managed to get a tiny smile out of Dean, and smiled himself. "Instead, I thought I'd make some stuffed burgers and strawberry-cherry pie….if that's okay with you."

Dean's eyes grew wide with childlike excitement. "First you heal my hand and then you give me Star Trek, burgers and pie? Cas….are you sure you're not an angel?"

Cas clasped his hands together and said in a mock-girly voice, "Maybe you just bring out the angel in me, Dean." He even fluttered his eyelashes.

"If I'm lucky, I'll be able to bring out the demon in you, too," Dean replied with a cocky grin. This caught Cas off guard, and he stared at his feet trying to hide his intense blushing. Dean saw. He liked having that effect on him.

Cas scratched shyly at his stubble. "Well um, the doorway to the kitchen is right uh, right behind you," he managed.

In the kitchen, Dean sat at the table while Cas rummaged through cabinets and the refrigerator. He gathered some thawed meat, a small electric grill, and a few other ingredients.

"Anything I can do?" Dean asked him, not wanting to watch Cas do all the work.

"You can make the bacon while I put the pie together."

"Bacon…?"

"It's going inside the patties, along with cheese and a few vegetables," Cas explained.

Dean nodded, and at the mention of bacon, he realized just how hungry he was. It was half past nine, and he hadn't had anything to eat since lunch.

Dean fried the bacon as Cas poured the strawberry and cherry filling into the pie crust. Cas had prepared the filling and pie crusts that morning, and Dean was flattered that he planned everything ahead of time. He must've been pretty excited about their little date.

"Dean, I can't help but ask…" Cas scraped the bottom of the bowl the fruity filling occupied. "Am I…is this…Have you, have you ever tasted the rainbow before?"

Dean's face twisted in confusion at the question. "The fuck? Are we talking about Skittles?"

"No." Cas put the bowl and spoon down and turned to face Dean. "I mean…have you ever even been out with a man before?"

Dean was silent for a moment, and the only noise in the room was the sizzling of the bacon.

"I—well, I-"

"You don't have to share anything you don't want to," Cas assured him as he began cutting strips of crust to layer on top of the pie.

"No it's fine, I mean I guess you could say it's my first time-" he hesitated before continuing, "-tasting the rainbow."

Cas chuckled. "Could've fooled me."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, somewhat relieved that he didn't act like a total noob.

"Well, in the movie, when Khan had the little shower scene, and you…I don't know."

"What, you think I have a thing for shirtless Benedict Cumberbatch?"

Cas raised his eyebrows. "Oh and you even know his name," He chided.

"I watch a lot of movies! I know actors."

"Actors…" Cas drew out the word, eyeing him cunningly.

"AND actresses!" Dean exclaimed.

"Really Dean, for what reason do you have to get defensive over this particular subject with me?"

Dean stabbed the last of the bacon with a fork and removed it from the pan. "I don't have a thing for Benedict Cumberbatch," he pouted.

"Really? Because I think Mr. Bigdick Cumbercock is rather sexy," Cas said wistfully. He looked over at Dean and licked his lips.

"Go to hell, Cas."

* * *

The patties were stuffed and grilling as the pie baked. Dean and Cas got into a conversation about TV shows (Dean enjoys South Park and The Simpsons) which somehow led to a discussion over favorite animals (Cas thinks cats are communists) which led to a debate over government-provided healthcare (not really a debate, Cas was ranting). When Cas was done grilling the patties and toasting the burger buns, he handed Dean a burger and a beer and sat down across from him.

"Okay Dean. Are you ready for this?"

"I'm ready for this."

"Are you READY for this?!"

"I am DAMN ready for this!"

"Okay. Take a bite."

Dean picked up the thick burger and Cas watched intently as he stretched his mouth around it. He chomped through the beef and felt the cheese ooze onto his tongue, and he let out a satisfied grunt.

"Thoughts?"

"Mmmm."

"You like it?" Cas asked him.

"Mmmhmmm." Dean nodded enthusiastically.

"Wonderful." Cas started eating his own burger, humming and grunting along with Dean. It became a sort of conversation that consisted mostly of vaguely sexual sounding noises.

"So how long have you lived here?" Dean asked before popping the last bite into his mouth.

"Almost seven years, I believe."

At that moment, the oven beeped, indicating the pie was ready. Cas jumped up and grabbed some oven mitts from the counter. They had little tomatoes on them.

"Really? All this time, you've lived what, eight minutes away from me. Huh."

"Wished we would've met sooner? Oh Dean. Sweet little Dean," Cas teased.

"I meant that it's—" Dean stopped himself, choosing not to let Cas feed off of his defensive tactics. "Where did you grow up?" He asked instead.

Cas carefully pulled the pie out of the oven, and the room was filled with a delicious aroma. Dean wondered briefly if this was what Heaven smells like.

"I lived across state over in Colby up until I was ten, but then my family moved to Chicago and I had to adjust to city life." The pie was set down to cool, and Cas made his way back over to the table. "I actually graduated from KU, and fell in love with this town while I attended. Lawrence is sort of like Colby's and Chicago's love child. Anyway, after med school I started my residency in Kansas City, then finished it here."

Dean nodded, impressed by Cas's busy, studious lifestyle. "And exactly at what point did you become Bobby Flay?"

Cas shrugged. "I don't have much time for passive activities like TV, and after spending 21 years of my life sitting in a classroom, I can't enjoy books anymore. So, I cook."

Dean couldn't help but feel insignificant. He was smart, but he hadn't gone to college and instead began fixing cars like his dad. He constantly compared himself to his brother, who had recently graduated law school, gotten married and has an oncoming child. Then there was Cas, who helped save lives on a daily basis and found time to become a master chef. He was…he was too good for him. Dean subconsciously scratched his palm.

"How's your hand, by the way?" asked Cas.

"Okay, I guess." Cas picked up Dean's hand and peered at it closely. He stroked the small scar with his thumb.

"So…no pain?"

Dean watched, mesmerized as Cas's thumb moved slowly across his palm and up one of Dean's fingers. Such a light touch, but Dean was nearly made mute by it. He took longer than the necessary amount of time to answer. "No pain."

Cas looked into Dean's eyes like he wanted to ask him something, but he said nothing. Dean stared back at him, admiring once again how attractive he is.

"Do you want the pie now?" Cas asked, still holding Dean's hand.

"Pie." Dean looked dumbfounded, he actually forgot about the pie for a minute. "Pie. Yes, pie, right."

Cas stood, making Dean's hand fall to the table with a plop. He served out the slices and set one in front of Dean. "If you enjoy fruit pie at all, you'll love this," he promised. "But the middle is still hot, so be careful."

Strawberries and cherries had fallen out of the side of the slice, and Dean scooped them up with his spoon. Upon shoveling them into his mouth, an explosion of sweet fruitiness swept past his lips like wildfire. His mind became detached from his body, and his spoon made back-to-back trips from his plate to his mouth.

Cas's face expressed a mixture of smugness and slight worry. "How high up does it make it on your 'delicious pie meter'?"

"I fink oo bwoke it," Dean said with a hand over his mouth, trying not to let chunks of pie fall out.

"I see." Cas showed a bit more class eating his own piece, and Dean felt a little embarrassed of himself. "You have a bit of…" Cas pointed at his face.

Dean felt the juice sitting on the side of his mouth, and purposely wiped the wrong side.

"Other side."

Dean wiped the correct side with his napkin, but he completely avoided the red filling. His smirk revealed to Cas that he was just messing with him.

"Get it for me." Dean leaned over the table, jutting out his chin.

"You can get it yourself, big boy."

"But it can be like in all those romance movies!"

"This isn't one of those unrealistic romance movies, Dean."

"Get it."

"No."

"GET IT."

"I'm not wiping your mouth for you."

"Caaaaaaas!" Cas rolled his eyes and continued eating his own pie.

"Fine then. Meanie." Dean stretched his tongue out and slid it up the side of his mouth, surprisingly able to get every drop.

"That's attractive," Cas muttered with a disgusted look on his face. Or was it an impressed look?

Dean looked up at the clock hanging on a wall, and saw that over an hour had passed since arriving at Cas's place. "Time is making fools of us again."

Cas looked at the clock then paused, looking temporarily confused. "Wait, did you just quote Dumbledore?"

Dean smiled, pleasantly surprised at Cas's knowledge. "Kudos, Castiel. And you say you don't have time for TV."

"Everyone has time for Harry Potter." Cas gazed at Dean for a minute, like he was the most intriguing creature on the planet. "You know you're really not who you appear to be, Dean. You look like you could fit in with those arrogant country boys I grew up around in Colby, but really you're a smart, funny, gorgeous little geek who happens to secretly like men."

Dean instinctively opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped. Cas was right. Dean spent his entire life hiding his real personality around people, mainly because his father wouldn't approve of him otherwise. At that moment, he realized how little even the people closest to him really knew about Dean Winchester.

"Well congratulations Cas, you seem to already know me better than my brother Sam does."

"Maybe, or maybe he does know and just goes along with your façade."

Dean thought about this for a second, considered the possibility that Sam could see right through him. Sam would've mentioned it. He would have called me out on my weirdness. He thinks I'm an emotionless smartass with no respect for women.

"Either way, you're brother obviously cares a lot about you…my brothers don't give a shit about me."

Cas hadn't mentioned any siblings before. This was new. "But anyway, the night is young, and I have more beer and Twister."

* * *

"Wow I—I usually don't get this far with a guy on the first date," Cas muttered, his breath a little strangled from his position. Trying to get his right hand to reach a green dot, his head came dangerously close to Dean's crotch.

"Tell me about it." Deans face was just above Cas's butt, but if he were to be completely honest with himself, he appreciated the opportunity check him out. Castiel's booty was rounded in all the right places, and it looked so cute and slappable. Like Scarlett Johansson's.

"Dean did you hear me?"

"Huh, what?"

"I said, left foot yellow."

Dean ducked his head down to look at his feet. "It's already on yellow!"

"So move it to a different dot!"

Dean moved his foot the only possible direction, even more left, so now he was in a half-split and Cas's face was even more in his crotch. Cas burst into a fit of giggles.

"You're enjoying yourself too much, Cas."

They each had cut themselves off at three beers, so they were sober enough to think pretty clearly, but tipsy enough that awkward moments were funny instead.

"Deeean. Your-" his laughing interrupted his speech. "-your fly is open."

"You waited until your nose is practically in my pants to tell me that?!" Dean couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing too. "Deal with it!"

Dean heard a vibration, and he looked on the floor to the right of him to see Cas's phone screen light up. "You got a text from Meg….is that your girlfriend?"

Cas moved his right hand to a blue dot. "Would you be jealous if I said she was?"

"Terribly."

"Okay then yeah, that's my girlfriend." Dean kneed Cas in the shoulder, and he started giggling again.

"It says you have eight new messages. Damn Cas, some stalker girlfriend you've got."

"I'm sure they're not all from her. Rachel and Liz said they might text me tonight, too—right foot red, Dean-those two and Meg are my work friends," he explained.

"Right. I'm sure that's normal, at 11:30 at night they just…check up on you."

Cas huffed in defeat. "FINE. I told them."

"How flattering." Cas moved his hand across the mat, and he leaned on Dean's leg for support. "You're going to make me fall!"

"Isn't that the point?"

"No, that's called cheating!" Dean's foot started to slide outwards, and he accepted the fact that he was going collapse right on top of Cas. Then, he did. Cas dropped to his elbows as Dean's face smashed into his butt. He rolled off of him before he had the chance to linger, and both were laughing hysterically.

When they finally caught their breath, Cas picked up his phone and read his messages. Dean watched closely as Cas smiled at the screen, and began typing his replies.

"You should tell them we're having sex," Dean suggested playfully.

Cas looked up at him with widened eyes. "What?! No!"

"Tell them how big it is."

"Dean!"

"Tell them we're having a threesome with Benedict Cumberbatch."

"Shut uuuuup!"

Dean laughed at Cas's flushing cheeks, and quieted when he remembered he had work in the next day.

"Cas I, I should get going."

Cas looked up at him, disappointment apparent.

"I got work in the morning," Dean said with a helpless shrug.

"As do I," Cas replied, eyes drifting to the carpet.

"I would stay otherwise."

"I wouldn't mind if you did anyway."

Dean gave Cas a small smirk. "You know I'll see you again soon."

Cas nodded in agreement and stood up. "Take some pie, will you?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

As Dean put on his shoes, Cas put some of the dessert onto a plate and covered it with aluminum foil. Dean's thought were running a mile a minute. First Date. Should I kiss him? I don't want to, but I do want to. I do like him. He's smart and kind and kind of wonderful. I don't know what to fucking do! I should probably kiss him. Would that be weird? Maybe Cas is thinking about it too. Also he is attractive…fuck it, he's hot. And damn those eyes. What if I don't and he thinks I don't like him? I've never kissed a dude before, I don't even know how it works! It's probably the same, is it the same? I wonder if Cas—

"You alright, Dean?"

"Wha-huh? Oh yeah I'm fine."

"I meant to drive."

"Three beers? C'mon Cas, I'm not a 90 pound woman. Plus that was like, half an hour ago."

"I'm very aware that you are not a 90 pound woman by our little Twister escapade."

"That has to be the most sexual game ever."

"Precisely why I picked it," Cas said with a sly smile.

Dean made his way to the front door and stepped outside. Cas followed behind him with the pie, and Dean plucked it out of his hands. "Thanks for everything tonight, Cas. That's the most fun I've had in a long time."

Cas looked up into his eyes, searching, watching, waiting. Dean knew what he was waiting for, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Please don't just stand there looking like an idiot. Make a move, do something! Any other date, Dean would have taken control. He would have seen what he wanted, and he would have taken it, no questions asked. Any other date, Dean wouldn't care if his date thought he was too forward. Any other date, it didn't matter. This wasn't any other date. And they both knew it. Not wasting a second longer, Cas grabbed Dean by the collar and smashed their lips together. Dean's eyes fluttered closed as a certain warmth spread throughout his body. All the tension in his head eased away, and he responded immediately by circling his arms around Cas's waist. He tilted his head slightly as Cas's tongue glided across his lower lip, catching the lip between his teeth. When Dean deepened the kiss, Cas responded with an appreciative little moan, and he ran his hands through Dean's hair. Their chests pressed together as they kissed, and they could feel each other's heart rate quicken with arousal. Just as the tongues started to get involved, Dean forced himself to pull away. Arms still wrapped around Cas, He stood panting for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Cas breathed, staring at Dean's mouth with his gorgeous blue eyes. "I've been trying to keep myself from doing that this entire night."

"By all means, Cas, get it out of your system."

Cas caught his lips again for another kiss, softer this time. Dean released his hands from Cas's waist and moved them up to his face, stroking his temples with his thumbs.

They slowly broke away, and said their final goodnights. Cas leaned against the doorframe, watching Dean get into his car and drive off into the darkness. This would soon become routine for the two.

 


	7. Dr. Irritated

“Yellow, Jess? Yellow, really?” Dean sipped his mocha Frappuccino disapprovingly.

He trailed behind Jessica, who held up a soft yellow onesie with a lion face smiling in the middle. They stood in the baby section of Target, where Jess had somehow coaxed him into shopping with her, while Sam was once again dragged away with client business. Jess would pick up any and every article of baby clothing and coo about how tiny and cute it was.

“But look at the little lion. See? It’s fuzzy!” She brushed the lion’s mane with her finger. Entertained by it, she set the onesie on top of the stack of clothes already in the cart. Dean winced like he had just been shot.

“My nephew is going to wear fuzzy yellow leotards.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Would it make you happy if I dressed my soon-to-be newborn in flannel and denim?”

A curvy brunette squeezed past Dean between the too-close clothing racks before he had a chance to give his snarky response. As she walked away, Dean’s eyes fell on her backside. Jess saw and folded her arms. “Really?”

He didn’t seem to hear her, so she smacked his arm. He flinched and glared at her as he held his assaulted limb. “What was that for?”

“This is why you’re still single, Dean.”

“Maybe not for much longer.” He kept eye contact with her as he slurped the remainder of his Frappuccino. She eyed him questioningly.

“Wait…what do you mean?”

He shrugged and smiled before spinning on his toe and stalking away. “Hold on. Wait, Dean!”

* * *

 

 

“One chicken BLT and a bacon cheeseburger?”

“The burger goes to me.” Dean leaned back as the waiter set down the food for Jess and him.

The young man smiled kindly at the two of them. “Do you guys need—“

“No. That’s good, thanks,” Jess answered quickly and waved a hand to dismiss him. “Okay, Dean. Spill.”

“Spill what?” Dean chomped on his burger and chewed it slowly in appreciation of its meaty flavors. He loved bacon and beef so much he didn’t even want to think about what his cholesterol level will be when he’s fifty. This bacon cheeseburger was good. Great, even. But still not as good as Cas’s stuffed burgers.

“The date, Dean. You said you’d tell me about it if I took you to Biggerson’s.”

“Is that what I said?” He was already regretting it.

“Yes. It is.” She looked around the room as if to double-check they were in the right place. “We are at Biggerson’s,” she confirmed.

Dean set down the cheeseburger and folded his hands in front of him. _I’m volunteering to dig my own grave,_ he thought. “What would you like to know?”

Jess stared at him disbelievingly. “Well, how about what’s her name? And how did you meet her? Is that who you’ve been texting all day? What’s she like? Feel free to start with any of those.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions, Jess.”

“You _promised._ ”

Dean sighed and rubbed his chin. This was going to be harder than he thought; her most basic assumptions were already incorrect…but he wanted to tell someone. And Jess was the only person with which he could feel somewhat comfortable talking about this.

“Before I say anything, you have to promise you won’t tell Sammy.”

Jess raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell Sam? Why would you not want him to know about a simple date?” She then paused and gave him an accusing glance. “Was it with one of his old girlfriends or something? Or do we know her already? Oh my god we do know her don’t we?”

Dean scratched nervously at his ear. _Crappity crap crap crap._

“Just promise me, Jess.”

“Okay. Fine. I promise.” She held her hands up in sincerity. Dean sighed again.

“Alright I’m just gonna say it. Four nights ago, I went out with Dr. Novak. We went to see a movie, ate at his house, and…that’s pretty much it.” Dean felt too awkward to mention Twister or the kiss. “To answer your earlier question, yes, that’s who I’ve been texting.” He then shoved his burger into his mouth to stop himself from saying anything else.

“Doctor Novak….” She said slowly, apparently failing to remember where she’d heard that name before. Instead of jogging her memory, Dean just watched her until the light clicked on behind her eyes.

“Your hand. The cute surgeon, Dr. Novak.”

“That’s the one.”

“The guy.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Jess stared at Dean as if she didn’t hear him correctly. They sat in silence for a moment while she poked absent-mindedly at her sandwich. “Well this is embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? I wouldn’t say I’m embarrassed.”

“Not you, I mean me. I assumed things, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know that you were…so open-minded.”

Dean scoffed, nibbling awkwardly on a french fry.

“So Sam doesn’t know about your - erhm, bi-ness?” She grimaced at her made-up word.

“No. Of course, neither did I until I met Cas.” _And he can go straight to hell for it._

“Cas? Is that really his name or is that supposed to be short for something?”

“It’s short for Castiel. But apparently I’m the only one to call him that.”

Jess grinned widely. “One date and you already have a _personal_ nickname for him? That’s adorable.”

“Shut up.” Dean used his cheeseburger to hide his flushing cheeks.

“What’s he call you? Sar _Dean_? _Dean_ dilion? _Dean_ ie baby?” Dean gave Jess his best ‘not amused’ face, but it only encouraged her. “ _Dean_ asaur? Big D with the big D?”

“That’s enough, Jess.”

She leaned back in her chair and stroked her prominent tummy. “I’m imagining it now. You and the cute doctor…I haven’t even really _seen_ you two together and I already love it.”

He smiled to himself as he stole one of Jess’s untouched potato chips. “I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect you to be so chill about this.”

“Chill? As opposed to what?”

He simply shrugged at her question.

“You want me to act like I’m disappointed or some shit like that? Let’s be real, Dean. Did you really think I’d give a fuck as to who you’re attracted to?” The mother of a young child sitting in a nearby table shot Jess a dirty look for her language, and Jess returned it unabashed before adding, “And you know Sam wouldn’t, either.”

Dean raised his hand up to flag the waiter for a drink refill. “You’re right. It’s just something I need to tell him myself, you know?”

The waiter refilled Dean’s soda and returned it to him; Jess watched intently as Dean chugged the Coke. Suddenly quiet, she frowned as she remembered something. He went to ask what's wrong when she blurted, “Sam’s been drinking.”

He nearly choked on an ice cube at her statement, and coughed a few times into his napkin. “S-Sam….drinking? Like alcohol?”

"No Dean. Fucking grape juice."

He ignored her sass. "Why?"

Jess just shrugged, appearing distant.

He studied her face, her slight frown darkened the room. “Is it—is it bad?”

She stared blankly at him, expression unreadable. “If he doesn’t find anything at home, he’ll head to the bar. They all know his name there.” She began tracing patterns into the table with her fingernail as she continued, “But usually he’ll spend his evening in front of the TV with beer or scotch....It’s not like him, you know?”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Dean offered earnestly.

She shook her head. “I’m thinking it’s just work, it’s really stressing him out. This is still only his first year as a proper attorney,” she reminded him.

Dean eyed her for a moment, wondering if there was more to the story. He had become very close with Jess since she married his brother, so he had no problem siding with her if Sam was being an ass. “He’s not…causing any trouble with it, is he?”

“I don’t want to get into any serious arguments with him, so I usually don’t say much,” she admitted.

“But it bothers you.”

“I won’t lie and say it doesn’t….but I’m sure it’s just a temporary solution for him. An outlet for the stress of work and preparing for the baby.”

Dean nodded slowly, still uncertain. Why was she making excuses for him? “You just let me know if I need to beat him senseless.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Promise?”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Promise.”

The waiter set down their check, and Dean snatched it out of Jess’s hand.

“Now I was supposed to be the one to take _you_ to Biggerson’s,” she protested.

“It’s only 15 bucks, I got it.”

“So you’re not going to get pecan pie this time? Who are you and what have you done with Dean?” she joked, despite her slightly spoiled mood.

“I have pie at home,” he told her.

“Store-bought is just not the same.” She quoted him from a few months earlier, when he complained that some cookies Sam purchased didn’t come close to the chocolate-chip ones Jess made on occasion.

“I know. It’s homemade.”

“ _You_ baked?” She asked disbelievingly.

He actually laughed out loud. “ _Hell_ no. Cas made it.”

“Oh I see. It has nothing to do with sexuality; he told you he would make you pie and you immediately fell for him.”

Dean would have replied with sarcasm, but he realized what she just said was surprisingly accurate. His silence made her crack up.

“Oh my God, that’s what happened, didn’t it? He lured you in with freakin’ pie!! I should have known!”

“It was damn good, too.” Dean made his way to the register, leaving a cackling sister-in-law behind. He momentarily worried if he was really that much of a shallow glutton.

Jess made her way up to the counter and nudged Dean's back. "You do know you're going to tell me all about it on the way back home, right? No details spared."

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Dean received the chance to see his real-life Dr. Sexy again. They decided that a simple walk outside by the university campus was sufficient. Dean waited by a fountain, watching the water shoot upwards and fall down a bubbly substance, the impact of the fall created a soft mist. Coins covered the bottom of the fountain, and Dean could only assume what college students wished for. Good exam grades. Scholarships. Love. Money for tuition. Roommates to move away. Money for anything at all.

"It's amazing how people still carry out the water-wishing tradition after thousands of years."

Dean turned to find Castiel standing beside him, with hands stuck halfway in his jean pockets.

"We have a tendency of grabbing every sliver of hope we can get our hands on,” He stated, still dazed by the bubbling and splashing of the fountain. He closed his eyes, and before he could stop it, a flashback to his childhood flooded his mind.

_It was the evening of November 2, 1993. Dean and Sam stood in front of the pretty tile fountain at a park in west Lawrence. It was the anniversary of their mother’s death, and their father was out getting drunk somewhere, as he usually did, but he acted the worst on this particular day of the year. Dean pulled a nickel out of his coat pocket and held it up in the fading sunlight. He had stolen a ten dollar bill out of his father’s wallet in order to purchase Sammy a new pair of sneakers, and this nickel was part of the change he received from the cashier at the outlet store. He nudged the youngest Winchester and placed the nickel in the boy’s palm. “Make a wish, Sammy.” The seven-year-old looked up at his brother and smiled before making his way to the fountain’s edge. He closed his eyes for a brief moment then tossed the coin into the water. “What did you wish for?” Dean asked him._

_“If I tell you then it won’t come true,” insisted Sam. Dean hoped that whatever it was, Sam would receive his wish. He took out the last coin in his pocket, an old penny, and held on to it as tightly as his eyelids were closed. Please give me the courage to stand up to my Dad when he gets angry at me and Sammy, he wished silently. The coin flew from his fingers and disappeared beneath the foamy surface of the water. Dean watched the fountain for a moment, not really believing it had any sort of wish-granting powers, but he thought he must at least give it a shot. He slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder and led him to the playground portion of the park, wanting to prolong their time away from home in case their father was there waiting for them._

"You alright over there?"

Dean pushed away his thoughts and turned to Cas. "Yeah I'm fine. Just...thinking. Anyway, how's life at the hospital going?"

"Chock full of innocent people suffering. You know, the usual."

"Well aren't you just a big ball of sunshine," Dean retorted.

"It's my positive outlook on life that keeps me young," Cas replied with flawless sarcasm.

"That and all the philandering you do with younger boys."

"I'm only two years older than you, Dean."

“So you admit you’re trying to philander with me. I don’t appreciate being objectified.” Dean crossed his arms and tried to hold a serious face, but it slipped into a grin when Cas started laughing at him. He realized at that moment Castiel didn’t laugh too often, but when he did his nose wrinkled and his smile grew wide, causing dimple lines in his cheeks. Dean thought he probably had the most charming little chuckle on the planet.

The pair walked alongside each other around the almost empty park; Dean managed to get Cas to open up about his most recent ex, Lance Crowley, who he’d broken up with due to betrayal seven months prior to this night. Dean couldn’t think of any reason why anyone would want to cheat on Cas, he was such a sweet, awesome guy who was anything but boring. As Dean was telling the tale of his Lisa Braeden era, he could feel the doctor walking slightly closer to him now, to the point of grazing shoulders. Their fingers brushed together once, twice. His brain went into overdrive, as it usually did with close proximity to Castiel. It became apparent that Cas wanted to hold hands with Dean, but the now overly self-conscious mechanic withdrew his hand to scratch awkwardly at his neck. He hoped Cas would dismiss the small rejection, ignore it and carry on. But, as fate would have it, he would not let this one slide. Cas stopped suddenly and turned towards Dean, the setting sun behind him creating a golden outline of his handsome features. “What type of relationship are you looking for, Dean? I’m not clear on what it is from me that you seek.”

 _Where’d that come from?_ Dean wondered briefly as Castiel’s ocean blue eyes searched his. _I thought it was pretty clear that I….Wait, what do I want?_ Dean knew he wanted a meaningful relationship…Right? And he knew he wanted one from Cas….Didn’t he? His uncertainty must have been displayed clearly across his face, because Cas then shook his head in slight annoyance. Dean jumped when a vibration in his pocket startled him out of his thoughts, and he broke eye contact to fumble with his phone.

“Sorry, let me just – one second.” He saw the name Jessica Winchester light up across the screen, and exhaled sharply in irritation. _I talked to her earlier, what the hell does she want now?_ He tapped the answer button and stared at the ground as he answered. “What’s up, Jess?”

“Dean.” He immediately noticed her voice was off, too high-pitched. “Dean, I don’t know where he went.” His head shot up when he realized something was very, very wrong.

“Jess, are you crying? What are you talking about?” He noticed Cas’s eyebrows furrow in concern.

“We had a fight and he just…left.”

“Left where?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

“You said he usually goes to the bar, you think he went there?”

“No.”

“Which one does he go to, the Roadhouse?”

“No, Dean.”

“Which one, then?”

“No. No. Dean he – he took a bag.”


	8. Dr. Helpful

Dean Winchester’s heart was racing. He was angry, worried, and a bit confused. Why would Sam just get up and leave like that? And what did he and Jess fight over that pissed him off so badly? Dean had known there was more to the story when she told him about Sam’s recent drinking habits, but he had let it go. Why didn’t Dean press the issue? He might’ve been able to prevent this. He walked briskly back towards his car, with Cas near jogging to keep up with him. “Dean, I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. You’re upset, and someone needs to be there to keep you calm so you don’t drive too fast and get yourself killed. Besides, what if your brother is hurt somewhere or unconscious? I could help.”

“My family, my problems, Cas.”

“Please Dean, be smart about this. Let me help you look for him.”

“I don’t need your help, dammit!” Dean yelled as he pulled out his keys to unlock his car. “I’ll go find my basket-case little bro while you go home and bake yourself a big-ass cake for dinner, alright?” Dean’s words clearly stung, and Cas only stood at the curb pitifully as Dean peeled out of the street edge parking space and sped down the road with no known destination.

~

Where did Sam go when he was upset? Dean had driven by the homes of his brother’s closest friends, Ash’s trailer, Jo’s apartment, and Chuck’s house, but none had seen or heard from Sam. He wouldn’t answer the calls from Dean, Jess, or anyone else for that matter. On the drive between homes, Dean would skim the parking lots of the motels and bars he passed by to hopefully find Sam’s Dodge, but luck was not on his side today. He even considered Ruby, Sam’s ex, and couldn’t tell if he wanted to find Sam at her house in the next town or not. He needed to check every possible location however, and was on the way to her house when his phone buzzed loudly. _Please be Sammy,_ he prayed silently while snatching up the device. Castiel Novak. He cursed to himself at the name and considered letting it go to voicemail, but he answered it anyway. “What is it, Cas?”

“Hello Dean,” Cas greeted, despite Dean’s impolite tone. “I found your brother.”

“What? Where?!”

“At your house, of all places.” Dean swerved into the turning lane and executed a beautiful, yet illegal U-turn.

“And? What’s he doing? Have you talked to him?”

“I’m about to. He’s sitting on top of his car in your driveway singing ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ He appears to be heavily intoxicated.”

“Damn. I’m on my way, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Wait, Cas, how do you know where I live? You’ve never been to my house.”

“You told me, the other night.” Dean figured that in all of their conversations, he must have at one point told Cas the street he lived on, so he shrugged it off.

“Okay, I’ll be there in about – oh _shit._ Oh fuck, no.” Flashing red and blue lights illuminated the inside of the Impala and Dean reluctantly pulled over onto a smaller street to face the inevitable. “Looks like you two are gonna really get to know each other tonight.”

“What happened?”

“I’m getting pulled over. Shit! Sorry, this may take a little while. Damn it...”

“Well maybe if you would have let me go with you – “

“Not the time, Cas. Here he comes, gotta go. Oh wait! The garden gnome, his hat is broken. There’s a spare key underneath it. Take care of Sammy ‘till I get there, alright?” Dean hung up and rolled down his window, greeting the cop with a forced smile.

"Good Evening, officer. What can I do for you?" The cop was a tall, thin man with icy grey eyes and thin lips curled into a frown. Dean has never been scared of law enforcement, but this man really gave him the creeps.

"You know why I pulled you over tonight?" His low, nasal voice made Dean shift uncomfortably, and his smile faded.

"I know I was speeding, but it's an emergency and I really have to get - "

"Oh an _emergency_? Well, by all means!" Dean glared at the officer, Alistair, according to his name tag. "We have a number for emergencies, 9-1-1; it's real easy to remember, ain't that convenient?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped himself knowing that nothing he could say would do him any good. Officer Alistair smiled wickedly, reminding Dean of the Joker from the Batman movies. “Insurance and I.D., por favor.” Dean stopped himself from rolling his eyes, and got out the requested information.

"And I actually pulled you over for that illegal U-turn; didn't see that you were speeding. But don't worry, I'll go ahead and take your word for it."

Dean's nostrils flared in irritation. This guy was a grade-A douche nozzle. After looking over the cards, The officer continued, "I'm giving you a ticket for the turn but because I'm a swell guy, I'll just give you a warning on the speed."

"Wait, technically I should be getting just a warning for _both_ of them!"

"Two broken laws, as far as I know, Mr. Winchester. I'd say you got off easy." Dean’s fingernails dug into his palms as the cop fiddled with his PDA. He chose not to protest any further because he really needed to get home. He wondered for a moment how awkward it must be for Cas to welcome himself into a house he'd never been in to babysit a drunk giant he'd only met once. He almost laughed thinking about it while the Officer Alistair issued the ticket.

~

In under twenty minutes, the '67 Impala sat parked in the driveway and Dean ran up the porch steps, unsure of what he would see behind the front door. Upon entry, The smell of Chinese takeout overwhelmed his nostrils, but he was too pissed at his brother to think about food. Wait, _food?_   He made his way into the dining room and saw Sam and Cas both sitting at the old wooden table, eating beef chow mein from small folded boxes.

"Broooo!" Sam drawled when he noticed his pissed off brother standing in the doorway. "Having trouble with law, man?" Dean just glared at him, a million questions flying through his mind. "I see you sent your doctor to check up on me."

Cas, ignoring Sam, put down his chopsticks and explained quickly, "You were a little held up, and I figured Sam needed some food in his stomach after imbibing copious quantities of alcohol. We retrieved some for you as well." He held up a takeout box for Dean.

"Yeah, thanks Cas. Um, can a talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure, of course," Cas said and stood to join Dean in the living room. The house Dean lived in had been his home his entire life; he had become the owner after his father passed. He recently finished paying it off, so now he really and truly was the owner of the house, and would likely stay there the rest of his days. The living room homed somewhat mismatched furniture, with an old phonograph in the corner and a china cabinet displaying childhood photos of Sam and Dean. The armchair looked like it belonged in the seventies, and the black leather sofa faced a television mounted above the barely used fireplace. Cas took notice of a fist-sized hole in the wall opposite the TV; Dean had attempted to hide it with a trophy shelf. Dean thought he had hidden the hole pretty well, but he saw Cas staring at it, head tilting in curiosity. Cas felt a hand on his shoulder, then turned back to face the slightly taller man.

"I wanted to say how sorry I am about all of this," Dean started.

"You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry about the way I acted. I'm sorry about the way I treated you. I'm sorry about Sam, and you accidentally getting dragged into this....It's what I hoped to avoid."

"I know, Dean. You requested that I not to get involved, but I did anyway because I was worried. That's not your fault."

"Yeah well, sorry anyway. And thanks I guess...for babysitting my drunken moose of a brother. Oh um, did he, did he say anything to you?"

"I tried asking him about it, but every time he would just mumble something like, 'Just like him.' I don't know what that means, but other than that, he didn't say anything," Cas answered. Dean shrugged, not sure who Sam was referring to either.

"Alright then. I can take care of it from here."

Cas looked from the doorway back to Dean, then nodded reluctantly. He let Dean lead him to the door when he remembered something. "Almost forgot. I hid Sam's car keys in your freezer. I'm surprised he even made to your house without trouble."

"Yeah. Thanks Cas." He hesitated, then leaned over to kiss Cas on the cheek, if somewhat awkwardly. He smiled a bit sadly at Dean, then left.

Now that Cas was gone, Dean remembered the situation at hand and anger filled his insides like wildfire. He stormed back into the dining room and found Sam digging around in his box of noodles. Dean reached down and yanked the box out of his hands and slammed it down on the far side of the table out of his brother's reach. Sam stood to grab it again but was stopped abruptly when Dean punched him square in the cheekbone.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"OWWW. Dammit, Dean!!"

"JESS IS HOME ALONE, CRYING, AND YOU'RE HERE CHOWING DOWN ON FUCKING BEEF CHOW MEIN!"

"Dude, you need to chill out."

"No, I’m not gonna ‘chill out.’ You’re going to tell me what happened. Right. Now.”

Sam sighed and rubbed his face where a bruise was definitely going to form while searching for the right words. “It…it’s kinda hard to explain.”

“I don’t care. What were you and Jess fighting about?”

Sam scratched at the table anxiously while bits of the story came tumbling out.

“I drink…sometimes. And I, well Jess she, she doesn’t like it and griped about it and....we got on the topic of the baby and I said something and she got upset and we were arguing and, and she started crying and I said some things to try and explain myself but I only made it worse so I just…I needed to get out so I just left.”

Dean stared at his brother in confusion. Sam was still a bit plastered, making his elusive story even more difficult to follow. “She said you took a bag. You’re here, so I presume you expected to stay with me, but I want to know when you plan on going back.”

Sam said nothing, he only stared back at Dean with sad, glassy eyes.

“Sammy….you DO plan on going back.” The younger Winchester’s eyes fell to his hands, he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“Sammy? Tell me you plan on going back.” Dean felt his jaw clench when Sam gave him the tiniest of shrugs. No, this is not right. Sam and Jess love each other. Dean adored Jessica. Sammy is going to become a daddy and Dean will become Uncle Dean and they were a family. No. No. This is not right at all.

Sam’s lip quivered for a moment, and Dean’s face filled with worry as he spoke softly, “What did you say about the baby that upset her so much?”

“I told her the truth.”

He didn’t know why, but Dean’s heart sank at this short sentence. “Which is?”

Sam finally met his brother’s gaze, and with a voice barely audible he answers, “I’m not ready to be a father.”

Dean’s eyebrows drew together in disbelief, and he could no longer keep his anger from flooding his veins once more. “You told. Your third-trimester wife. _You’re not ready to be a father?_ Are you _insane_?”

“Better late than…well, _too_ late.”

Dean ran his hands through his hair, then slammed his fists down violently on the table. “Well you better get ready, kid, ‘cause YOUR baby boy is coming this AUGUST, asshole! Which, by the way, I knew before you did because you won’t show up to a SINGLE DAMN APPOINTMENT.”

“The problem is…I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to be a father.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve said it yourself before, Dean. I’m just like him.”

“Like who??”

“You _know_ who.”

Dean stared at his brother. _He can’t possibly think – No. He couldn’t._ “Sam…Is that…Is that what this is about? Do you really think…? No, you’re not going to be like him Sammy, you’re wrong.” His voice cracked, he struggled to keep it together.

Sam shook his head pitifully. Tears began to form on the rims of his eyelids, and he bit his lip hard to hold them back. “I…can’t...risk it. I can’t…put a child…through that.” Through the tears, his eyes appeared even glassier than before. “It’s just...not… _nice._ ”

“You’re not going to be like our dad. You’re not going to leave your kids at home while you go off and screw some hookers. You’re not going to degrade your son for liking books. You’re not going beat your son for spilling orange juice on the floor he just mopped. You’re not going to try to sleep with your son’s girlfriend. You’re not going to blame your kids for everything that’s wrong in your world. You’re not going to refuse to feed your kid for three days after he steals some money to buy his little brother some new shoes. You’re not him, Sam. You’re different, because you have a damn _heart._ ” Dean didn’t even realize he started crying. “You listen to me, Sammy. If anyone would have pulled this crap, would’ve done all this, I would have thought it to be me. But _you?_ You’re smart. So smart, and probably the most caring son of a bitch I’ve ever known, with your hugging and empathy and damn puppy dog eyes. That’s why Jess married you, you dumbass. She knew you’d make a great father. The best.”

Sam gazed up at Dean, his tear-stained cheeks and distraught expression making him appear younger than his 27 years. “But…I’m scared, Dean.”

“That’s because you actually give a fuck. As far as I know, it’s perfectly normal to be scared as hell. But dude, Jess can’t do it all on her own. She needs you. Your son needs you. That’s your family and you love them, and you’re going to be the best damn father a plaid-wearing Sasquatch can be.”

Sam said nothing, he only closed his eyes and attempted to nod. Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and stood him up before wrapping his arms around his baby brother. With a chest clenched tight with emotion, Sam choked out words. “How can you be sure? How do you know I won’t change?”

“Because it’s me. I know you better than anyone else, and you’ve been the same Sammy since you were in store-brand diapers. Having a family of your own won’t change that.” Sam nodded again and they broke apart. “You can stay here tonight, I’ll tell Jess everything is okay. Honestly, I don’t know where you’ll begin with your apology to her, but that’s the first thing you’re doing tomorrow, alright?”


	9. Dr. Anxious

The window beside the floor lamp had a leak. Was there a hole in the glass? No. Was it closed all the way? Yes. Was it locked tightly? Yes, it appeared so. Castiel squatted so he sat eye-level to the film of water on the slightly dusty windowsill. The rain tapped repeatedly against the glass, and as each minute passed the small puddle grew slightly, but Cas could not figure out the precise point of entry. He stared for a few minutes, watching the water shake as he exhaled, rippling the reflection of the dull light of the early evening.

The doorbell startled him out of his trance, causing him to jump and scrape his elbow against the rugged brick of the fireplace. Castiel winced at the sudden stinging sensation, but mostly ignored it as he shuffled to the front door. He opened it to find Dean Winchester, standing in clothes darkened by droplets of rain.

"Hey Cas." His deep voice contrasted the pitter-patter of the rain, and Castiel found himself oddly delighted to hear it, despite the other man's unexpected arrival.

"Hello Dean." He wanted to ask why he was standing on his doorstep this unfortunately-weathered evening, but he could not bring himself to do so for fear of sounding rude.

"I wanted to bring this back to you," Dean stated, reading the brunet's mind. Cas then noticed the empty plate in Dean's hands, the one Cas let him borrow to hold leftover pie.

“Oh. Thank you.” Dean handed him the container and watched him closely, Cas returned the expectant stare. “Did you come out here in the pouring rain just to give this back to me?”

“Yeah, kinda. I don’t know, maybe?” Castiel chuckled at him, then opened the door wider, inviting Dean inside.

“It’s freezing in here,” Dean commented as Cas closed the door behind them, wrapping his arms around himself and shaking.

“No, you’re just wet. Let me get you a towel.” Not wasting time to walk all the way to the bathroom, Cas grabbed a clean dishtowel from the kitchen and handed it to his cold, wet friend. He watched Dean dry himself with interest, noting how his chest puffed out when he reached up to dry his dark blond hair.

“You’re bleeding,” Dean said suddenly.

“What? Oh, that.” Cas looked down at his elbow and saw that, sure enough, the scrape had a small trail of blood running down his arm. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. Just a scrape.”

Dean handed the towel back to him, and Cas used it to apply pressure to the minor wound. “Sorry again for all that crap that happened last night,” Dean muttered.

Cas had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes, I heard you the first three times. None of that was your fault anyway.” Dean shrugged and made his way over to the couch. “If you don’t mind me asking though, how is Sam?”

Dean sunk into the leather sofa and sighed. “You know for a smart guy, my brother sure is an idiot.” He gestured to the spot next to him and Castiel sat down, still holding his elbow. “Sam was prepared to end his marriage because he was scared he was going to end up like our dad.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Well…I guess personality-wise, he is a lot like him. Stubborn-headed, realistic and logical, independent and a natural leader. Oh, and a sarcastic little shit he is, too.” Castiel nodded, waiting quietly for him to continue. “He thinks he’s going to be like him in the bad ways, as well. He had recently started with the drinking….but he’s just a nervous wreck, you know? Nobody was there to teach us how to be a good parent, so he’s working off instinct. So then something in his drunken mind told him his kid would be better off with a single mother than with a father like the one we had.”

Cas took a moment to let all of this sink in. “I really haven’t heard much about your father, but knowing what little I do know about Sam, I feel that he’d be a great dad. He’s a good person.”

“That’s what I told him. But then he goes on about how Dad was a good person before our mom died, and he doesn’t think he should risk it for the child’s sake. First of all, he didn’t know Dad before Mom died, secondly, he’s too damn nice to ever abuse anyone, much less his family.”

Castiel nodded again and set the dishtowel on the coffee table. He had assumed the Winchesters’ father was abusive from the way Dean talked about him, but he never asked. He fought the urge to hug the green-eyed man and stroke his hair and tell him everything was going to be okay, because he understood. He really did. His own father was absent for the majority of his childhood, and his brothers Michael and Bartholomew always found reason to harass Castiel physically and verbally. The two of them had their own families and their own boring office jobs but most importantly, they lived far, far away from Cas.

“So Sam and Jessica are…?”

“No, they’re not splitting, thank God. She’s pretty peeved at him for running out on her like that, but I think they’ll be okay. Especially now that he’d promised to cut back on the Shiner Bock.”

Cas wondered for a moment if he should tell Dean about his family, but decided it a subject for another day. He usually got pretty pissed off when he talked about Mike and Bart, so he let the sound of the rain wash away his memories. _Rain._ His eyes fell to the windowsill between the lamp and the fireplace, still irked by the watery phenomenon. "My window has a leak."

Dean looked back at Castiel, confused by the sudden subject change. He followed his gaze back to the window, asking "That one?"

"Yes. Somehow water is getting inside my house, and I really don’t want to deal with moldy carpet. I don’t know why this is happening.” Dean stared back at him for a second, just before letting out a guffaw. Cas watched as Dean laughed at him, not really understanding the humor in his statement.

“Why are you so distraught over a window leak? It’s alright man, they’re easy to fix. Here, lemme take a look at it.” He walked over to the window and squatted in front of it, with Cas doing the same beside him. The puddle was big enough now that it almost dripped off the edge of the sill. “Hmmm…” Dean ran his finger along the perimeter of the window, Cas watching silently. “You know what I think?”

“What?” Their heads were so close that he could feel every time Dean exhaled.

“I think the seepage is coming from the walls, and it’s trickling down beneath your window frame. I’ll bet….yeah, I’ll bet you have a crack in your siding outside.”

“You can tell all that after looking at it for twenty seconds?” Castiel found himself attracted to this perceptive part of Dean.

The blond shrugged. “I’ve lived in my house my entire life, and I’ve fixed too many problems with it to count.” He stood up and grabbed the suddenly very convenient dishtowel and spread it out on the leaky ledge. “Maybe I’ll help you fix it one of these days, but for now, don’t worry about it.” He affectionately patted Castiel’s cheek before wandering into the kitchen. “I don’t suppose you’ve had dinner yet, have you?”

“I have not. I think I planned on eating salad because I’m feeling particularly lazy this evening,” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

“We should go out.”

“Really? In this weather?”

“I don’t have a PhD like you Cas, but I’m pretty sure a little bit of rain won’t kill you.”

“Driving in it could. Slippery roads and—“

“Well it’s a good thing I’m a great driver,” Dean interrupted. He nodded his head towards the door. “C’mon.”

“You’re driving? Well, I may not be a mechanic like _you,_ but I don’t think they had ABS brakes and traction control in the sixties.”

“Don’t be a bitch, Cas. Now do I have to carry you?”

Cas pretended to think for a moment. “Maybe I want you to carry me.”

Dean rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smirk spreading to his cheeks. “You really are a lil’ shit.”

“Did you just call me a little shit?”

“Yes I did. C’mon honey, let’s go.”

“Did you just call me hon—“

“LET’S GO, CAS.”

~

“You were right. Those enchiladas _are_ the best thing since the lapascope,” declared Dean after their meal at the Casa Caliente.

“It’s actually ‘laparoscope,’ and yes, I ate so much I feel like a pregnant woman.” Raising his eyebrows at the brunet, Dean abruptly snorted with laughter. “No. I mean. I’m only assuming this is what – Dean stop - what they feel like – stop laughing at me!!”

Catching his breath, the mechanic nudged his companion. “I parked all the way in the back, and it’s STILL fuckin’ pouring. Where’s that rinky-dink umbrella of yours?”

“Dammit,” Cas muttered when he realized he left his blue and orange KU umbrella in the booth they sat in. “I’ll go get it.”

“Dumbass.”

“Shut up!” Cas exclaimed with a smile, then trotted his way back inside.

The smell of salsa and melted cheese reentered the doctor’s nostrils as he found his way back to the main part of the restaurant. Luckily he was able to retrieve his umbrella while the busboy was cleaning, and he maneuvered his way through the crowded dining area when he saw him. Him. _Him._ At the register paying for his dinner. The Dos Equis and Bud Light neon signs on the wall cast dim light on the English man’s profile, his brown eyes glistened when he smiled flirtatiously at the cashier. Castiel felt like a bowling ball had dropped in his stomach, and he ducked his head down while he walked briskly through the brightly-colored double doors.

“There you are. I was about to send – whoa Cas, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered hastily. “Let’s go.” He opened the umbrella and the two huddled underneath it, with Dean near jogging to keep up with the obviously spooked brunet. As they reached the black-as-ink Impala, he put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Seriously, you look like someone killed your puppy. You were fine just a minute ago, what happened?”

Cas’s eyes darted around anxiously and Dean took a step closer to keep from getting rained on. “I-I saw him.”

Dean peered at him as though he was speaking another language. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Sorry. Um – my ex, Crowley. Lance Crowley.”

“The asswipe that cheated on you?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I told you…” Cas looked behind himself nervously and shifted his feet.

“What do you mean, ‘What you told me’? What are you talking about?”

“That wasn’t the reason why we broke up…I um, I had to get a restraining order,” he revealed, biting his lip before mumbling “He’s really supposed to still be in jail.”

“Jail? Hold on, what the hell happened?”

“Can we just go in the car please?” He looked behind himself again, but this time, his eyes locked with those of the very man who took Cas’s trust and skinned it alive. Outside the doors of the restaurant, Crowley gazed darkly at the handsome doctor, and wiggled his fingers in a taunting sort of wave. Nausea overwhelmed Cas, and he unconsciously clutched tightly to Dean’s chest but he could not tear his eyes away from his ex-lover. Suddenly feeling protective, Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and glared at the well-dressed Brit. Crowley winked at the two of them before walking in the opposite direction without looking back.

“What did he do? I’ll beat his ass right now,” Dean growled when Cas finally turned back to him.

“I appreciate your intentions, but they won’t be necessary,” Cas responded. “I’ll tell you on the way back home.”

Dean nodded, then let go of Cas to take the umbrella and open the passenger door for him. After climbing inside, the brunet looked through the window to watch Crowley’s silhouette disappear into the dark rainy night. Dean didn’t demand answers as he pulled out of the parking lot, but instead quietly waited for Castiel to volunteer the information if he was comfortable with doing so. Having second thoughts, Cas decided that maybe he didn’t need to share anything with Dean; honestly he could just tell him to forget about it because it’s not like the two were in a committed relationship or anything. Not yet at least.

Just as he was about to tell him this, the pair of emerald green eyes met his own, eyebrows drawn together in sympathy and slight worry. Cas looked back at him, and then he instantly knew Dean wouldn’t tease, mock or judge. He genuinely cared; he wanted to know what upset Castiel, wanted to make him feel better and tell him everything was going to be alright. Taking in a shaky breath, he began his story.

“It was less than a year ago when we met at a mutual friend’s dinner party. I thought he was smart and funny, and eventually, as you know, we started dating. I of course worked at the hospital while he worked in sales at a small business corporate office, or at least that’s what he told me. Oh, he was a salesman alright.”

With one hand on the steering wheel, Dean glanced back at Cas, already drawing conclusions about where the story was headed.

“Then I learned the real reason why he was interested in me. I found out that when he visited me in the hospital, he was stealing prescription pads, syringes and every drug he could get his hands on.

“I should have immediately gone to the police. I don’t know why I didn’t. For whatever reason, I decided to confront him about it.” Cas felt exponentially more uncomfortable about telling his story now, and his eyes felt hot with unfallen tears. No, he wouldn’t cry in front of Dean. He refused.

“He told me he would stop. He would leave town and I would never have to see him again if I didn’t tell anyone. But I knew he wouldn’t stop dealing, and I couldn’t just let him go. So when I left his house, I called 911. Little did I know…he had followed me back to my house.” A single tear rolled down his cheek and he immediately wiped it away, but not before Dean noticed. Dean reached his hand across the gear shift and planted it on Castiel’s, squeezing it reassuringly.

“I only noticed him a couple of blocks before I made it home, but since I was still on the phone, I told the dispatcher to send the police to my address. He had seen me on my phone and knew I had called the cops on him, so I locked my doors and stayed inside my car. That did nothing, because he smashed my window and dragged me out of my car and into my house.”

The Impala pulled into Castiel’s driveway, so now the two sat at the very spot where the event of his nightmares took place. “I just remember him hitting me and hitting me and hitting me and when the police arrived, I was a bloody unconscious mess on the floor. While he was taken in custody I was sent to the ER.”

Dean stared at Cas with an open jaw, shocked and utterly frozen. “I figured one of his wealthy friends would bail him out once it was sanctioned, so I got a restraining order to be put into effect the moment that might happen. Which already has, apparently.”

The mechanic eventually found his voice. “Wow Cas I- I had no clue I – I’m so sorry.” Since speech became suddenly difficult, Dean opted for a large, tight embrace to express his sympathies. Castiel shut his eyes tightly and returned the hug, feeling slightly better after telling his story, as painful as the memory was. “The fucking asshole. That really sucks, Cas. You didn’t deserve that. You’re a great guy, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

As good of a job Cas had done to keep himself from crying, he was so touched by Dean’s kindness that he couldn’t stop silent tears from running freely down his face, shaking slightly in the other man’s arms. “Shhhhhh. Hey, you don’t have to deal with him anymore. He can’t come near you. If he even thinks about it, he’ll have to go through me first.”

At those words, Castiel pulled away from the embrace to stare at Dean with wide, shining eyes. Seeing the honesty in the blond’s face, Cas crashed his lips onto Dean’s without warning. His arms hooked around the man’s neck and he leaned so far forward that Dean fell backwards onto the steering wheel, causing the old car to release a neighborhood-echoing honk. The two ignored the sound and continued kissing until they were forced to break apart due to lack of oxygen.

“Thank you Dean,” Cas breathed. “That’s kind of you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Dean replied, still a bit dazed. Then the two met in the middle for another kiss, and Cas forced himself to pull away before he got too deep into it.

“Okay. I’m going inside now. Have a good night.”

“Uh-huh. You too.” Castiel could only grab his umbrella and open the car door before Dean grasped his arm and pulled him back to bring their lips together yet again.

“Are you ever going to let me leave your car?” Cas asked against Dean’s mouth.

“Haven’t decided yet.” His fingers softly stroked the side of the brunet’s face, sending tingles down Cas’s spine.

He eventually was able to make it out of the Chevy Impala, wearing a brand new red mark just below his left ear. Dean definitely made him feel happy and safe, but something in the back of the doctor’s mind would not stop reminding him that his ex was now free and all too eager get a hold of Castiel.

 

 


	10. Dr. Busy

“Hmm…what do you think, Sam?” Jessica Winchester held up two color palette cards in front of her husband. “Key Lime or Hidden Meadow?”

Sam put back the paint roller he’d been fiddling with and plucked the cards from her fingers, raising them closer to the light. “This one’s too yellowish. Let’s go with Key Lime.”

Jess moved behind him to take another look at the juxtaposed shades of green. “What do you and your brother have against the color yellow? I think it’s cute,” she wondered aloud while grabbing the Hidden Meadow. “It has happiness. Personality.” She dropped the card into her purse. Put that other one back.”

The tall man rolled his eyes when Jess turned her back, and slipped the card back into the correct slot. Why did she bother asking him in the first place?

“Okay. When I was looking online I saw a couple of good blues to go on the door and the back wall of the nursery and…” She skimmed the rack for a moment before spotting the two she had seen before and handing them to Sam. “…Which one do you like better?”

“I don’t know Jess, whatever you want,” he said with a bored expression.

“C’mon Sam. I want your input. Millstream or Summer Sky?”

He sighed dramatically and peered at the very similar shades of light blue. “I don’t know, babe. You wanna put a light green _and_ a light blue together? Don’t you think that might look a little too…beachy? Too tropical for a baby’s room?”

She thought for a moment, fingers twirling her long blonde locks. “I don’t think so. I originally wanted pale blue and orange and that’s even worse. That’s like a frikken Florida beach house.”

“What if we use something a little more grayish, like that one?” He pointed vagely towards the grayish-blues.

“Gray? We’re not painting for my grandfather. This is a baby. Pick one of these.”

“Why? So you can just pick the other one? Just do whatever you want, Jess. I don’t care.”

“What is wrong with you?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

“You ask me my opinion and then you just ignore it! I’m trying to help. I’m trying to contribute. You’re not making it easy for me.”

“You wanna paint it gray? Fine. Let’s go with charcoal gray for a nursery. You know what? Why don’t we just paint it black, I think that’s a swell idea!”

“That’s not what I said! Why do you have to be such a bitch about something so simple?”

“Excuse me?! Well if I’m being such a bitch why don’t you just go home? I’ll call Dean. He’ll help me.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Speaking of which, you sure have been hanging around him a lot lately. Something I should know about?” He obviously meant nothing by his accusing words, but he regretted them as soon as they escaped his lips.

“That’s because you wouldn’t, you dick!! Dean was helping me out while you were at some shitty bar drunk off your sorry ASS!”

“Oh, please don’t start with that again.”

“ _Dean_ was there when I had doctor visits. _Dean_ was there whenever I went shopping for the baby. _Dean_ was there when I couldn’t fucking find you. He built a goddamn crib for us, Sam! What have you done, huh? NOTHING. Not a DAMN thing.” A few other customers in the home improvement store had heard Jess’s yelling, and one nosy guy had even stopped to listen.

“Okay. Fine. I’m sorry. Just lower your voice, people are staring,” he pleaded.

“After you accuse me of something like that? I don’t give a shit who stares at you! Your brother has always been there for me, always been there for YOUR baby, and has always been there for you. Take a tip from him, Sam, THAT’S WHAT FAMILY _DOES_.”

“You’re right…I’m sorry,” Sam murmured sheepishly, but Jess remained furious.

“Yeah. You’re sorry. I get it. Same song and dance, and I’m starting to get sick of it, Sam. I’m sick and tired of it.” She spun around and pregnancy-waddled away, leaving her husband stranded in the paint aisle to be gawked at by the eavesdroppers.

~

Unaware the extent of his younger brother’s marital issues, Dean Winchester was having a great time bowling with his friends. Pamela, Adam, and Dean watched as Benny Lafitte raised the 14 pound ball before shuffling towards the lane. His strong arm swung backwards then forwards like a pendulum and the ball escaped his grip, rolling speedily down the wooden bowling lane. Its path bowed slightly to the left, resulting in the elimination of only seven pins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to catch up with me,” Dean goaded, reminding everyone of his 26 point lead in the current game.

“Twenty bucks says I pass you up by the end of this game, brother,” Benny countered, only halfway confident in his abilities.

“Fine. Anyone else wanna throw some cash in the pot?” Pamela and Adam shook their heads, knowing full well that Benny didn’t stand a chance. While the Cajun waited for his ball to be returned to him, Dean checked his phone. The next time Castiel would have time to see him was next Sunday, but Cas had promised to call Dean during his break this evening. It was almost 8 o’clock now.

“Must you keep checking your phone? God, you’re like a teenaged girl,” Pam retorted, while refilling her plastic cup with beer from the pitcher they had purchased from the café. “You supposed to be somewhere?”

“Nah. Just that a friend said they’d call.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Adam said, grabbing the pitcher from Pam, “I’d say that ‘friend’ is a pretty girl you must be pining after.”

“No Adam. It’s not some girl,” he responded honestly. The three watched as Benny knocked down the remaining pins, causing the word SPARE to pop up on the overhead screens in big, purple bubble letters. Pamela eyed Dean suspiciously before standing up to take her turn. The brunette was uncomfortably astute, always able to accurately read people and discover their secrets. Dean swears she’s psychic.

He emptied another cup of beer and only checked his phone once more before it was his turn again. He stood over by the ball return and bent down to touch his toes in a sort of athletic stretch. He proceeded to do different stretches and even a few jumping jacks in a dramatic pre-bowl ritual.

“Aw come on!!”

“Throw the damn ball already, Dean!”

“You’re only sixteen points up brother, don’t get cocky!”

A family in the next lane laughed at the mechanic, and he used this as motivation to continue with his antics. He held up three fingers and kissed them, raising them in the air in a Hunger Games inspired salute to the bowling gods. Finally grabbing his ball, he winked at Pam before sending the ball down the lane, knocking out all ten pins.

With one hand at his belt buckle and another on his imaginary hat, Dean moonwalked in victory across the platform. His frowning friends booed and heckled while throwing balled up napkins at the blond. Suddenly feeling his phone vibrate against his leg, Dean stopped and quickly pulled it out. “Adam, take my turn.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.”

He walked past the benches and away from his curious friends, and tapped the answer button. “Cas.”

“Hello Dean.”

“I almost forgot you were going to call,” Dean lied, leaning against a pool table by the gaming area. “How was your day?”

“Just fine, thank you. No one’s died under my care today.”

“It’s always good to hear you haven’t killed anybody.”

“Definitely. What’s that noise? It sounds like you’re in the middle of the Battle of San Jacinto.”

“Hah. No, I’m actually in a bowling alley. Here, gimme a sec.” He walked towards the exit so that the conversation would continue outside in the quiet. “I’m bowling with my buddies Benny, Adam, and Pam. I also might be a little drunk.”

“Oh dear. They sell drinks at bowling alleys? There’s children all around!”

“Hell yeah they do. We gotta whole thing of beer on our table; it’s our second one. This place even has a kid-free bar in the back.”

“Wow. I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been bowling. I’m not keeping you from your game, am I?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I got Adam playing for me. I’m winning, by far.” He couldn’t stop himself from boasting about it to Castiel. “So uh, did you end up calling about the Crowley thing?”

“Yes, I contacted the police and they have confirmed that the restraining order is in effect, and I should call them immediately if I feel threatened or endangered in any way.”

“Good. Good. And you could always, y’know, call me too.”

“I appreciate that, Dean. Your support is comforting.”

“Yeah well, people like that make me sick.” It really did. When he learned what Crowley did to Cas, he wanted break someone’s neck. Specifically the pudgy, accent-having, black suit-wearing culprit’s.

“So…you wanna make plans for Sunday?” Dean asked, changing the subject. “We could go out, or I could fix that leak for you, I don’t know, whatever you want.” He heard Cas chuckle over the line. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“What?”

“You’re cute.”

Dean felt his face heat up, but there was no one around to witness it. “What did I say?”

Cas giggled some more. “Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, the leak? Yes, the window leak. You’d sooner fix the crack in my siding than fill the hole in your wall?”

“What hole?”

“The hole in your living room. Behind the trophy shelf.”

“Oh. You saw that?”

“It’s only a little bit obvious.”

“I guess I never got around to it. Meh, I’ll just put some duct tape over it. Whatever works, right?”

“Hm. I suppose. You could come over anytime during the late morning, I’ll just be – wha? Hold on.”

Dean waited quietly, listening to the murmurs on the other end.

“Yes….Yes I did….No Anna, it’s fine….it’s Dean….yes that’s the one….Okay give me just a minute – I’m sorry Dean, I must go. Duty calls.”

“That’s alright, Cas. My friends are probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you this weekend, have a good night.”

“You too. Buh-bye.”

After hanging up, he stared at the phone for a moment, smiling to himself. That’s when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

He spun around to come face-to-face with Pamela, her arms folded as if Dean was in trouble. “Who is Cas?”

“Pam! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“Eavesdropping? Really?”

“Who is Cas?” She repeated.

“A friend.”

“Just a friend?” Dean nodded unconvincingly.

“Don’t you lie to me, Winchester.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone the entire night waiting for this ‘friend’ to call you. You look like a smitten highschooler while you’re talking to him, and then I hear you asking him out this weekend? I’m sorry, but for once, it looks like Dean Winchester is actually interested in someone. Even Adam said so, and he doesn’t know a whole lot.”

“We’re not talking about this.” He pushed passed Pam to the double doors, but she grabbed his arm.

“Why not? Dean, this is a good thing. I’m happy for you. Really.”

“You’re not…you’re not going to make fun of me, are you?”

“What? Because he’s male? Oh sweetie, no! No, no, of course not! That makes absolutely no difference to me. Besides, I kind of suspected it from the beginning,” she revealed.

“Wait, Really? How?”

“I seem to have a knack at reading people.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah well, it’s more than that. There’s a lot about me you don’t know. Hell, there’s a lot about _you_ that you don’t know.”

“Alright Pam, you’re starting to freak me out.”

She laughed loudly and nodded in agreement. “I tend to do that sometimes, too. C’mon, let’s head back inside.”

The pair reentered the building, taking notice that the lights had been turned off and the black lights turned on, causing the white lines in Dean’s plaid shirt to glow. A dance remix of Scream and Shout blared through the speakers as they walked back to their lane, and Pamela had to pat Dean’s shoulder to get his attention. “I’ll be hush-hush about it if you want, but you know neither one of them would mind.”

He remembered Jess saying the same thing about Sam, but he still hadn’t told him. He just didn’t want to make it a big announcement, especially when the two weren’t even committed yet. And there’s that word again. _Yet._


	11. Dr. Shameless

“Look who it is, my favorite nurse in the whole world!” Dean remarked with false enthusiasm. Plastic bag in hand, he walked toward the nurses’ station on the second floor of Lawrence Memorial Hospital wearing a fitted Metallica tee and distressed jeans. Anna Milton spun around, scanning Dean up and down before raising an eyebrow at the bag in question. Another brown-haired nurse turned to him, eyes going from Dean to Anna and back.

“Oh look, it’s Dean. Is that food for your boyfriend?” The red-head asked him with unrestrained sass.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Though yes, I’m bringing him lunch. He mentioned being sick of veggie soup and stale nachos.”

“Oh how _thoughtful._ Not even exclusive yet and you’re already utterly whipped,” she teased.

“What? Pfft, no. No, I’m just a really sweet guy,” He said with a self-satisfied smile. “And I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking.”

“Indeed, I was highly concerned.” She watched him set the bag on the counter and open his mouth to ask the inevitable then she added, “I just now asked him to come sign these forms for me, so he’ll be here in just a second.”

“So you’re Dean Winchester,” the brown-haired nurse drawled. “I must say, you’re even more attractive up close.”

Dean shifted a little uncomfortably. He vaguely recognized her as one of the friends Cas was drinking coffee with that one evening he visited the cafeteria. She had a pretty, round face, and she looked at him with half-lidded brown eyes and a lazy smirk.

She held out her hand as she gave him the same up-down glance as Anna had. “Meg Masters. Pleased to make your acquaintace.”

Dean shook her hand and looked around for Castiel, in an attempt to avoid the piercing gazes of the two nurses. No sign of him...awkward small talk shall ensue, then.

He turned back to the flame-haired beauty, thinking of the first silence-breaking question he could think of. “So, is your hair naturally red, or…?”

“Yes. One-hundred percent ginger,” she responded, and began to twirl her hair thoughtfully.

“I see…well it looks nice. It uh, complements your eyes.”

“Oh. Wow, thank you.” Said hazel eyes brightened at the compliment.

Dean returned the smile just as Castiel popped seemingly from nowhere, and the doctor glanced between the two of them suspiciously. Meg’s eyes widened as if to say “awkward!” without opening her mouth.

“Cas! Hey uh, I got that sandwich you wanted.” Dean then proceeded to chuckle lightly, but he didn’t understand why he was doing so as nothing was inherently humorous.

“Thank you Dean, I’m pleasantly surprised you decided to eat with me today.” He then gave the blond a chaste hug, apparently choosing to forget the somewhat flirtatious interaction he just witnessed. “Go ahead to the cafeteria, I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Anna has some forms for me to sign really quickly.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll wait.” Dean insisted. Anna picked up a manila folder and handed it over to the doctor, who then sighed when he realized there was over 40 forms inside. He opened it up and began scribbling messy signatures where Anna had left marks with a pink highlighter.

“I remember the last time a boy brought Clarence here some lunch,” Meg started, elbows on the counter and a hand on her chin.

“Clarence?”

“That’s what she calls me,” Cas said without looking up. “Apparently he’s an angel in some old movie.”

“Not ‘some old movie.’ _It’s A Wonderful Life_ is a classic. Anyway, that boy was a real Lothario,” Meg continued. “That relationship didn’t last long. He had a funny name, what was it again?”

Cas didn’t answer, so Anna chimed in. “It was Sebastian, I believe. Sebastian Bo-Bal-Bath…?”

“Balthazar,” the doctor muttered while shaking his pen, as it had run out of ink. “And I would hardly call that a relationship.”

“Yeah well, Sea Bass sure knew how to have a good time, right Clarence?” Castiel pulled another pen from his pocket and continued flipping through papers, choosing to ignore the brunette. “But of course, you would know that better than any of us.”

Dean watched the doctor, noting his discomfort on the subject of his own love life. He had to admit he was curious about Cas’s relationship with this Sebastian Balthazar; from context clues it sounded like nothing more than a fling, but Dean didn’t think Cas was the type. Instead of pressing the topic, Dean politely changed the subject.

“Why don’t you get one of those name stamp things, so you don’t have to go through this all the time?” He watched as Castiel’s signature became nothing more than a “C” followed by a squiggly line.

“I had one a while back, but it was stolen.”

“Stolen? What kind of person steals a—“  Cas gave him a look, and Dean understood immediately. Who else would do such a thing?

Anna nodded her thanks as Cas finished up with the forms, and the two men journeyed halfway down the corridor before the brunet stopped.

“Hm. Seems awful noisy in there; let’s just eat in my office.” Dean followed the doctor like a puppy to a place where the two can enjoy each other’s company, sans attractive yet nosy nurses.

~

Sam Winchester plopped down on his leather swivel-chair, already exhausted by the morning’s work. He couldn’t believe he had to defend this asshat who obviously raped a poor sixteen year old girl. Now he finally got sit down for a while and enjoy some lunch in silence, perhaps forget about the trial for just a moment, if at all possible. He bent over sideways and used two fingers to pull open the mini-fridge underneath his desk, cold air bursting out and sending chills up his leg underneath the thin black slacks. Four cans of Coke, a homemade sub sandwich, a water bottle, two cups of vanilla pudding, and a small jar of pickles were illuminated by the light in the fridge. Every day he opened it find a varying number of the same items, but for some reason, each day he hoped to open it and discover rock lobster tails, a large garden salad, a bottle of cabernet-merlot and perhaps a chocolate cake.

Once again, he was disappointed.

He sighed to himself and grabbed the sub and a coke, kicked his feet up onto the large wooden desk, and cracked open the soda. He sipped the foam forming on top of the can and tried his best to relax against the chair and forget the constant swirl of stress that was his life….but it wasn’t working.

He needed a drink. Like, a real drink.

If Jess could read his mind right now, she would definitely call him an alcoholic. She liked to bitch about what a mope he was, what a lazy, self-pitying sack of shit she married. She would guilt-trip him with mentions of the baby, she would bring up his darker past, the one not even Dean knew about. She would bring up “that whore” Ruby, and the big, deep hole he was in when Jess first met him….how she “saved” him.

He looked to his right at the wall behind his desk. On that wall, a picture hung from their wedding day two years ago. Tuxedo-clad Sam had his arm around a beaming Jessica Moore, each accompanied by their immediate family. Her parents and two sisters stood beside Jess while Sam only had a proud older brother to stand by his side. Not that he needed anyone else. Dean was enough family for the both of them, really. Forest green eyes travelled back to the face of Jess, her contrasting red lipstick and pearly white teeth were only a small part of the beautiful smile Sam missed seeing. It felt so long ago, the time when both of them were young, happy and hopeful. Excited about life. Excited about their life together. Those two in the middle of that picture…those _kids._ They still believed in happily-ever-after. They were so naïve.

She was just so self-absorbed, and Sam didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. At about this point in their arguments, Sam would threaten to leave, but then Jess would bring up the baby again and they just couldn’t fuck up the kid’s life like that and…and that’s where it becomes so complicated.

This crap situation. It’s why he drinks. And when Sam drinks, the cycle starts over again. Was having separate addresses really that much worse than having parents that couldn’t stand each other in the same house? Sam would have liked having a mother he and Dean could stay with for a little while to have some time away from their drunken father.

Drunken father.

Sam groaned aloud. Why did he think the whole apple pie life was right for him? He should have stayed single like his brother. Dean could do whatever the hell he wants, because there was no one to tie him down. No one to control him, to imprison him, to make him feel like shit on a daily basis. Dean could get any girl he wanted, have his fun with her, and then send the bitch on her way without giving her a second thought. That was Dean’s life. The life Sam now longed for.

Perhaps he needed something stronger than a drink…

No. _No._ That was Sam from the past. Present Sam would never, ever again take –

_Knock knock knock._ The soft, hesitant knocking on the window of his office door disrupted his thoughts.

“WHAT?” Sam called grouchily, without giving permission for entry. He didn’t like it when his few minutes of alone time was interrupted, especially when he hadn’t even picked up his sandwich yet.

“Mr. Winchester,” called Tim, a law office assistant. He was still new, and quite frightened of the six-foot-four defense attorney. “You have a visitor. Should I tell him to—“

“I’m on lunch! I’m not taking clients right now.”

“Um, he’s not a client, sir. He says he’s a friend of yours.”

A friend? All of his friends know not to visit him at work because of how busy he gets. It must be important. It’d better be, or so help him God he will take his stapler and beat the crap out of whoever walks through that door…

“Fine, let him in.” He rolled the chair closer to his desk and noticed the untouched sandwich, now realizing how hungry he was. He set the coke down and went to grab the roast beef sub when the door opened and he was forced to peel his eyes away from his lunch.

The man looked spiffing in a perfectly fitted all-black suit, and a wristwatch that screamed money. Those slightly upturned lips didn’t sit right with Sam, and his gut filled with dread upon recognition of his visitor’s menacing brown eyes.

“Hello, Moose. Bet you thought you saw the last of me.”

Sam cocked his head to the side in a mixture of shock and confusion. “How…what? Why are you – what the hell do _you_ want?”

~

“So I’m just about ready to lose it when he said, ‘You should have been there, Cassie. I had a ménage a…what’s French for twelve?’ I could have hit him. _That,_ Dean Winchester,is the reason why I never spoke to Sebastian again,” Castiel finished. It felt good to have a story to tell that didn’t make him extremely uncomfortable, and this one worked because there wasn’t so much hurt involved as there was funny moments.

Dean couldn’t contain his laughter and sputtered Pepsi over his vintage t-shirt. “Good Lord, seriously?! That is GOLD. Tell me he was making it up.”

“No, he was telling the truth. Believe me, he had evidence.” He chuckled a bit despite himself. “To my understanding, he went back home shortly after that, anyway.”

“That is some crazy shit. Oh, and what is it with you and English dudes? I know it can’t be because they’re any more gentlemanly.”

“Trust me, they’re not. There’s just as many, as you say, ‘dickbags’ across the pond as here in central U.S.”

Dean drained the last of his soda. “Oh I get it. You dig the accent. Would you like me better if I spoke like one of those tea-sipping twats you’ve dated?”

Cas seemed to imagine it for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s different and cool and sexy at first, but after a while, it’s highly irritating.” He looked down into the foam cup of water in his hands and smirked at his dull reflection. “Besides, I recently met a nice Kansas boy and his speech is plenty attractive.”

It was Dean’s turn to look down in modesty while Castiel moved his eyes upward to peek at him. It was times like these when the mechanic _almost_ wished he had long hair like his brother that he could hide behind. Almost.

Then it came time for Dean to go; Cas had to prepare for the last operation scheduled for the day. The pair of nurses Dean had the lovely opportunity of meeting finished making their rounds and were about to have their own lunch break when the two men emerged from the hallway, confirming their plans for tomorrow.

“Really, Cas. It’s no trouble at all. Your leak will be patched up in no time. God forbid you get moldy carpet, right?”

“True, I would much prefer not to have harmful mycotoxins interfering with my RNA synthesis.” Dean nodded, though he didn’t even try to comprehend what the doctor just said. “In any case, my immune system thanks you for your concern. And I do not wish to pass up the chance to see you again so soon.”

“So it’s settled. You said ten or eleven o’clock?” Cas nodded. “Okay then uh…”

The pair had reached the counter near the elevators, and Dean now noticed both Anna and Meg gathering their purses so they could go out for lunch. They each stopped when they spotted the men, probably analyzing their every word and movement. Because that’s just how they were.

“See you um, tomorrow,” he finished while looking around and realizing that there were more medical professionals running around now than when he first arrived.

“Thanks again for coming, Dean.” Then Castiel, unfazed by whatever sets of eyes that may be on him, leaned forward and kissed the blond goodbye. The two parted ways, and Dean told himself that if he was to continue seeing Cas, then he has _got_ to stop being so weird about it in public. Within only a short period of time however, that would be the least of his concerns.


	12. Dr. Boyfriend

The air conditioning in Sam’s office cut off, and for a moment, nothing but silence sat in the air separating the two men. Fergus “Lance” Crowley, a newly freed man, seemed tall standing in front of the lawyer’s desk, despite his mere five feet and eight inches. Sam continued to stare disbelievingly, hand still resting on his sub sandwich.

“What are you doing here, Crowley?”

“No ‘Good afternoon, mate. Sure has been a while, how are you, love?’” Sam didn’t answer, his gaze unwavering. “Well, beyond that, now that I’m out of that filthy prison, I figured I’d rekindle some old friendships. Life is precious, too short. Time is best spent with close friends and family.”

Sam nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off his visitor. “Uh huh. Bullshit. What do you want from me?”

Crowley shrugged and his friendly façade shattered. “Eh. Worth a shot.” He set his hands down on the oak desk and peered into Sam’s eyes. “I need a favor.”

Sam leaned back with an exasperated sigh and began unraveling the paper on his sub.

“Of course you do. But why, after it’s been nearly four years since we’ve last spoken, would you want help from me?”

“You’re the only one who _can_ help me. I need you to speak to the attorney general. I have a colleague willing to testify against –“

“And why would I want to do that? I heard about what you did, Crowley. A few months ago, Ruby told me some guy ratted you out and you beat the crap out of him. Put him in the hospital.”

Crowly rolled his eyes. “Call the press, write a novel, talk to Piers Morgan, it’s old news, Moose! The man is dead where he stands, believe me, but with those who cooperate, I treat with respect. Do me a solid, and I’ll give you what you want. What you _need._ ”

Sam put down the sub and leaned over the desk, his hands folding under his chin. “I don’t need anything from you, _Lance._ ” He looked straight into his eyes, and could see Crowley’s gaze falter slightly. “I’m clean. I quit. I quit it all.”

Crowley straightened up and smirked bitterly. “Of course. I should have noticed it when I came in. You’re like a shiny new penny.”

Sam watched as the other man looked around the room, finding something to talk about so he could buy himself time to think. His eyes landed on Sam’s left hand.

“You’re married now. Congrats. Who’s the lucky lady, is it Ruby?”

“No, we broke up years ago, the same time you left the country.”

Crowley snorted. “Good. The bitch probably had syphilis.”

Sam turned his chair so that Crowley could see the picture behind him. “Her name is Jessica. We’ve been married about two years now.”

Crowley glanced over at the photograph, and hummed approvingly. “She’s lovely. Way out of your league.” He stepped closer to the smiling couple’s faces. “Plan on having any little ones?”

“Well, actually, Jess is almost seven months—“

“Who is _that_?” Crowley cut him off, poking a pudgy finger at one of the faces in the picture.

Sam looked from the photo to the Brit’s perturbed expression. “That’s my brother Dean. Why? Do you know him?”

“His name is Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah…”

Crowley smiled a bit to himself before turning back towards the door. “Bollocks. Would you look at the time? I’ll suppose I’ll see you around, Moose.”

“Wait, what about the attorney general?”

“Forget about it. I think I’ll go grab some lunch. Suddenly, I’m craving enchiladas.”

He then left the office while a confused Sam stared after him. He could hear him down the hall, singing cheerily to himself.

“ _It’s a small world aaaafter allllllll. IIIIIt’s a small world aaafter allllllll…”_

Well that was weird.

Sam looked up at the clock, and saw that his lunch break was ending. The roast beef sandwich sat on top of a stack of papers, as untouched as a teenaged comic book geek.

~

The sound of Dean’s phone vibrating against the glass of water on his nightstand pulled him out of his slumber the next day. He pulled a hand out from under his pillow and flopped it over to the source of the weird noise, only to knock over the cup, spraying water over his carpet. He groaned into the pillow before repeatedly slapping the nightstand again in search of his phone. Picking it up and seeing the wet screen, he wiped the water droplets on his bed sheet and opened the message from Castiel.

_Sorry, It looks like you’ll have to come by later. I’ve been called in :/_

Dean caught himself frowning at the text message, though he knew he would probably be able to see the doctor later. When did he become so needy? Geez.

_Ok, just let me know whenever you get off._

Dean put the phone back on the table and turned over in his bed. Maybe he’ll clean his house today, or at least do laundry (he was lucky if he found a clean pair of underwear, and that mountain of clothes wasn’t disappearing anytime soon). For now though, since he had Sundays off, he was sleeping in until noon.

~

Thanks to White Pages, finding the home of Dean Winchester had been easy. It was a lovely two-story on the west side of town, with that conspicuous old Chevrolet sitting in the driveway. Crowley wouldn’t be forgetting that car anytime soon. He drove slowly past the dwelling, noting every tree, window, and the proximity of neighboring houses. Crowley knew from the moment Castiel had called the police on him he would get his revenge on the doctor, because no one messes with Crowley’s business. No one. Castiel had told the cops about the stealing and the dealing, despite the relationship the two had at the time. Crowley didn’t take betrayal lightly, especially if his business is involved. He spent _six bloody months_ in the state penitentiary, only to find that his customers have gone elsewhere to get their goods, since incarceration damages the reputation, even in the case of freelance pharmacists.

His original plan was simply to kill him, dump the body, fly back to England. In jail, there’s all sorts of time to think. He had actually come up with some pretty creative ideas, but then a restraining order was instated and then he saw the doctor with his new man-candy…and he decided upon a new course of action. He had to devise an intricate plan if he wanted to end Castiel Novak, so first thing’s first: isolate the enemy. This excited Crowley, because not only did it allow him to safely capture his target, but it excelled in the emotional torture category as well. Crowley hoped Castiel really cared about the Winchester boy. He hoped Castiel would fall in love with him. So before Crowley would eliminate the ally, he wanted to give the pair time to get closer. He wasn’t sure how long they have been dating, but he needed some time anyway to come up with a good plan.

After lying to him, costing him thousands, putting Crowley in jail, and nearly destroying his business, did Castiel actually believe he would get away with all of it? No. No he would not. And after Lance Crowley was finished with the piece of scum, everyone would know not to mess with him. They would fear him. It was going to be amazing.

But that would wait for just a little while.

~

Cas hadn’t made it home until after six in the evening, and was pretty exhausted by the day’s work. He didn’t even work Sundays, but he was on call for the weekend because another doctor was out of town, and being early June, the ER was filled with summertime vacationing accidents. He could imagine the doctors going insane in prime beach locations like Miami or Los Angeles.

Dean had pointed out that it rains next to never in Kansas, so the leak could wait to be fixed. The pair decided that Netflixing was a nice, lazy evening activity they could enjoy for the few hours it would take for Cas to pass out.

In the middle of some terrible sci-fi flick Dean couldn’t remember the name of, the two found themselves talking about Anna Milton.

“Oh, that Anna. We used to be good friends, she and I, before we, namely me, messed it up.”

“What do you mean, ‘messed it up?’” Dean turned towards the other man on the sofa, leaning on the armrest.

“Well, when she first started working at the hospital last year, she sort of had this…what’s the best way to put it…um, this big fat crush on me.”

“Called it!” Dean announced aloud, remembering the awkward scuffling the two did around each other when he initially visited the hospital.

“Yeah well, we started hanging out, I told her pretty early on about my sexuality, and she seemed to accept the fact that we would never be more than friends. That was until, hmm….just a few days before your surgery, as a matter of fact.”

“Cas. What did you do?”

“Umm, well you have to know, we were drunk at the time, or at least I was, and…I was feeling pretty lonely after my marathon of failed relationships…and we…”

“Cas! Tell me you did not do the naked tango with your friend, a chick, who you’ll never date even though she really likes you!”

“I wish it hadn’t turned out that way, but yes. And I’ve only confused her even more now and I still feel terrible,” Castiel confessed. “She’s one of the only two women I’ve ever been with.”

“Dick move, man. And who was the first?”

“Eh, my senior prom date. We went to a party afterward and she more or less raped me.”

“Did she know that you’re not into girls?”

“Oh yes. Didn’t matter to her, though.”

“What a bitch…so did you ever talk to Anna about that night? Smooth things over?”

“We spoke briefly about it, but I don’t know. You know after you came into the picture, it made things even worse for a little while. Apparently you flirted with her, and she wanted to go on a date with you, but you were more interested in me, I suppose.” Cas stood up to grab a microfiber throw from the loveseat and settled back down on the couch, wrapping the blanket around himself and huddling close to Dean. “Seeing both of us sort of jump off her radar at the same time didn’t exactly please her.”

“Great, now I feel bad, too. So you’re saying she likes me as well?” Well that would explain a lot.

“Yep, from the moment you and your handsome face appeared at that hospital. But of course, so did I.”

“So you still got a crush on me then, huh?” Dean nudged Cas in the ribs, his signature cocky smile widening his cheeks.

Cas nudged him back and answered, “Obviously. Though I already have y—“ He hesitated a moment and unconsciously began chewing his lower lip. “I don’t know, do I have you, Dean?”

Dean’s heart immediately sped up, but he only blinked at the question. He was never good at talking about relationships. Especially relationships with the same gender.

“What I’m asking is, are we…together?”

The blond tried to nod, but it ended up being a sort of circular motion, so Castiel wasn’t sure. His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s, searching for words. Any words.

“Don’t look so terrified, babe, it’s a simple question. May I, or may I not call you my boyfriend?” He gripped Dean’s arm tightly, and Dean could feel Cas’s equally fast pulse.

“Yes. Of course, yes, I would like that.” He sighed in relief at his own non-complete lack of sentence formation talents.

Cas crashed his lips onto Dean’s in ready agreement, arms hooking around his neck to pull him closer. After a few seconds however, he could feel Dean gently pushing him away.

“But only if you keep those surprise-attack kisses to a minimum. I swear you’re going to knock me out one of these days.”

“Sorry. I get a little excited sometimes.”

“It’s alright.” He wrapped an arm around Cas and let him lean closer before turning his attention back to the TV. “Now stop interrupting my alien movie. It’s just starting to get good.”

“This movie’s about dinosaurs!”

“Like I said, it’s getting good.”

~

Cas didn’t even make it to the end of the movie before his face was buried in his boyfriend’s chest, snoring softly against the man’s cotton undershirt. Dean admired his features for a moment, a face that he had quickly become fond of. He laid a kiss on top of his head before gently shaking the sleeping brunet.

“Cas. Hey Cas, you gotta get up now. C’mon baby, let’s get you to bed.”

Castiel grumbled a bit and stirred awake, sitting up slowly and wiping away a spot of drool at the corner of his mouth. Dean stood up and stretched out the discomfort in his limbs from sitting in one position for too long. He switched off the TV and turned on the lights, causing Cas to squint from the sudden brightness.

“Are you going home?” Castiel asked.

“Probably, yeah. It’s almost midnight.”

“Probably? Does that mean there’s a chance you’ll stay?” Cas’s eyes widened, full of hope.

“Do you want me to stay the night?”

“I would like that very much,” Cas admitted.

Dean visibly submits, arms slacking and head nodding. “Alright, I guess I can stay.”

Cas suddenly felt a little guilty for pressuring him, and shakes his head in understanding. “No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I know you’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Don’t be stupid, of course I want to! I’ll stay the night,” he assures him. A smile stretches across Cas’s sleepy face, and Dean can’t help but wonder the reason behind his asking. Does he want sex or something? No, he looks too tired for that. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone.

Cas stood up, took Dean by the hand and led him to the master bedroom. He went into the bathroom and began brushing his teeth, and Dean welcomed himself to the bottle of mouthwash on the counter because he too preferred regular dental hygiene. Kissing wasn’t as fun with nasty breath, anyhow.

Dean set an alarm on his phone and the pair stripped down to boxers and t-shirts before climbing into the king-size bed. He allowed Cas to cuddle close to him, and before they could say their goodnights, Cas was back in dream-land.

~

The next morning, the couple was awakened by Dean’s alarm. Their legs were tangled together and Dean had accidentally stolen part of Castiel’s pillow in the night, so the two were surprisingly close when they opened their eyes. Cas checked the time on his alarm clock while Dean was fumbling with his phone. 5:25. He laid back in mild irritation.

“Do you normally get up this early for work?”

“No, I set it fifty minutes earlier than usual today,” He mumbled in his sleepy state.

“Fifty minutes? But it takes less than ten to get to your house from here,” Cas pointed out while rubbing his eyes and flicking on the lamp.

“I dunno. Things happen.”

“Oh really? What kind of things?” He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at Dean. He had a tiny hankering about what kinds of things the mechanic was talking about.

Dean stared up at him, biting his lip. “Oh you know…” The blush creeping up on his cheeks only confirmed Cas’s suspicions.

He burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The blond watched his boyfriend throw a pillow over his face and shake in immense amusement, and Dean covered his own face with his hands in embarrassment.

“What? I figured it was a possibility, okay!”

Cas continued cackling and pointed at Dean, with words falling out of his mouth forming complete gibberish.

“You know what? Fuck you!” Dean exclaimed, and hit Cas with one of the pillows.

“Apparently you planned on it!! Oh God, I think I’ve ruptured my spleen!”

Dean gave him the ‘Are you done yet?’ look, but Cas could only hold his thumb between his teeth in an effort to muffle the laughter, which failed miserably. Dean turned over on the bed, half to convey annoyance, and half to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Oh goodness!” Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm and leaned over him to see his face. “Oh come on, I never said I didn’t want to, but Dean, you set your alarm for 5:25 in the damn morning so we could have sex before work!” He started up laughing again. “I didn’t know your dick rises before the sun does!!”

Then Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at his own thoughtlessness; maybe it _was_ kind of funny.

“I hate you, you know that?” He told the doctor.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do. We’re breaking up.”

“No, you can’t leave me! I’m pregnant.”

“What, did you have too many enchiladas again?”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand in both of his own, and set his chin down on his shoulder. He gives Dean and irresistibly cute face, with wide eyes and a pouty lip.

He tried to ignore Castiel but he couldn’t. “What? Oh my god Cas, what is that face?”

“It’s my ‘please don’t be mad at me’ face.”

“I’m not actually mad at you,” Dean said, stroking Cas’s hair to show just that.

“Oh good.” The brunet then proceeded to kiss him repeatedly, making Dean’s speech come out in short bursts.

“But that…doesn’t mean…I’m giving in…that easily…”

Cas let his hand slide underneath Dean’s shirt and run over his abs, while outlining his jaw with soft pecks. Dean couldn’t bring himself to stop the advances, and let Cas kiss down his neck while his fingers slid down from his chest, back over his abs, down underneath the waistband of his boxers to rub a spot on the inner part of one of his hipbones.

“Shit Cas…”

Castiel’s fingers dipped lower still, and Dean could feel his body start to react. He instinctively gripped Cas’s sides and flipped them over so he was on top, straddling the brunet’s waist.

“Okay fine. But we’ve got 33 minutes before I need to head home and I don’t want to be late for work.”

Cas smiled victoriously, excitement dancing in his blue eyes. Dean grasped the sides of Cas’s shirt and yanked it off quickly before doing the same with his own. As he leaned forward to kiss the man under him, something out of the corner of his eye stopped him.

“Is that a—“ He took the side of Cas’s boxers and pulled down to reveal- “You have a _tattoo?_ ”

Cas looked down in surprise as if he had forgotten about the mark.

“Oh yeah…I suppose it’s a little late to ask but…Do you mind tattoos?”

Dean stared at the mark on Cas’s hip. It looked like a sort of pentagram inside a heptagon inside a circle with words written inside in another language. “I usually don’t like ‘em on chicks, but on you, it’s kinda hot. What is it?”

“It a simplified sigil of Ameth. It’s a magical symbol used to hold power over all creatures. It meant having strength to me. I don’t know, I was weird when I was a college kid.”

“It’s kinda cool actually. Do you have any others?”

Cas looked embarrassed all of a sudden. “Um…yes, actually.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he already began scanning his boyfriend’s body. “Where?!”

“Oh you’ll see it. S’kinda hard to miss.”

Dean looked from his shoulders, to under his arms, to his ankles, before flipping Cas over onto his stomach to continue his search. He stopped short.

“Holy  _shit._ " _  
_


	13. Dr. Uncomfortable

Jessica Winchester bounced on her heels in excitement.

“Sam, get your ass in here, your brother has news!”

Dean’s eyes grew in astonishment and he gripped Jess’s arm and pulled her with him to the sofa in her and Sam’s living room. “Dammit Jess, he doesn’t even know yet!”

“I know, goofball, that’s why you’re going to tell him.”

“But I don’t even know if-“

“Saaaaaam!!” Jess called impatiently, avoiding Dean’s pleading face.

“I’m right here,” Sam responded from his new position in the doorway. “What is it?”

Dean’s expression switched from irritation to nervousness and slight guilt. “It’s nothing, really. Jess, she, she likes to exaggerate things-“

“Oh, stop being a pussy, Dean. You tell him or I will.”

“What is it?” Sam repeated as Jess crossed her legs and laid her hands on her knee, looking at her brother-in-law expectantly.

“It’s just um. I uh have a, a…I’m actually uh…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Jess exclaimed and stood up again to address her husband. “Sam, your brother has a boyfriend. He’s committed. Like for real. For the first time in an eternity. And yes, it’s a guy, but that doesn’t matter, right Sam?” She faced his younger brother, but Dean had a feeling that last part was for him. The mechanic stared down at his hands, feeling every second of silence pass like a thousand needles pricking him behind the eyes. Sam was the most important person in Dean’s life, so his opinion definitely mattered. This was it. Sam would no longer see his big brother in the golden light of a hero and role model. Dean was weird. Different. Maybe even a freak. All thanks to society and its stupid opinions, its stupid rules, the damn narrow-minded and conservative ideas of what the public sees as right and wrong. Inferior and superior. Black and white. Sinful and not. Fuck you, society. Fuck you and your irrational hatred and your lack of acceptance. Snooty homophobes, you can take your hate and shove it up your pearly white-

“That’s…great, Dean. I’m happy for you.” Dean’s head, which was now buried in his hands, shot up in disbelief.

“You…what? You’re not-“ He wasn’t sure how to finish his question, but he didn’t need to.

“No man, I mean, I’m surprised, but I’m not _surprised,_ you know?” Dean only looked up at his brother dumbly, not completely comprehensive of Sam’s reaction. Jess stared at Dean with a raised eyebrow, silently telling him _I told you so._ “I dunno, I guess you always kind of seemed like you were…like that.”

“Really? Always?” Castiel, Anna, Pamela, _and_ Sam? Dean was beginning to wonder how many people knew about his sexuality before he did. He guessed he must have missed that memo.

“C’mon, you _are_ kind of butch, almost like you’re compensating. And your obsession with certain actors surpasses envy and admiration.”

Jess snorted loudly, then threw her hand to her mouth in shame for laughing. Dean shot her a nasty look, then started to tell Sam about Cas, but the younger Winchester wasn’t finished.

“Ellen told me that when you were six you followed a boy around the playground and tried to hold his hand.”

Dean remembered Daniel Pruitt in his first grade class. Yeah, he followed him around, but it’s not like he had a crush on him. He played pee-wee football, he had a glow-in-the-dark Batman shirt, and he read books with no pictures. He was cool, that doesn’t mean Dean was gay for him. The hand-holding? He _was_ only six years old after all. Kids do that sort of thing all the time, right?

“And the time when we went to the beach in Michigan, that one dude winked at you and you got all flustered.”

“I wouldn’t say I was flustered-“

“How about that 90210 poster you had in your bedroom?”

“Jennie Garth, man.”

“Well then, shall we take a look back to the locker room incident your senior year? Because I’m sure that was just-“

“OKAY Sam. Okay. You’ve made your point.”

“Wait, what locker room incident?” Jess piped in curiously.

“Nothing,” Dean replied quickly. He sighed and leaned back on the couch when Jessica didn’t press, and motioned for Sam to join him. Jess decided to quietly leave the room so the brothers could have some time to speak alone.

Sam lowered himself onto the sofa and rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Early suspicions aside, you know you could have just told me, Dean. I don’t care what goes on in your bedroom, I only care that you’re happy.”

Dean said nothing, he only shrugged in response because of his lingering discomfort with the situation.

“I’m serious, man. Why did I have to learn this from Jess? How long did she know?”

“Pretty much since the first date,” Dean answered honestly.

“Way to keep your brother in the loop. What’s his name, anyway?”

“Oh, you’ve met him.”

Sam thought for a moment, then a knowing smile crept onto his face. “I’ll bet my mortgage it’s that doctor you were hanging out with that time, huh? Novak was his name, right?”

“Uh-huh, Castiel Novak.”

“Yeah, yeah, Castiel bought me Chinese food. He told me a story about his brother or something? I don’t remember very well but yeah, he’s really cool. Cas is cool.”

“Yeah he is. He’s pretty awesome.” And now Dean was thinking about him, and missing him already after only – how long was it – thirteen hours. Thirteen hours? It’s felt like at least three days since that morning, when the pair consummated their new relationship. And it had been amazing.

“Well hey, we need to get together and do something. We could all go out to eat sometime, or you could invite him to help us paint the nursery. Does that sound alright?”

“Sure, I’ll let him know.”

“Good. You do that.” Sam stood to go back to doing whatever he was doing in the study when Dean caught his arm.

“Sammy?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Sam clapped a hand on Dean’s back and shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re my brother, and I’ll support you in pretty much anything. You know that, don’t you?”

“No chick-flick moments, Sammy.”

Sam removed his hand and punched his brother lightly in the arm. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

~

Castiel discerned that he was daydreaming too much today. He would find his rhythm and focus hard for a while, then his mind would stray back to the events of that morning and the night before, and Dean Winchester would be dancing in his psyche, muffling any productive thoughts.

Not a good thing when one finds himself in charge of an appendectomy.

 He had found his focus long enough to get the job done safely, but then he would be back in his office, trying to clear his head and prepare himself for the next operation. It wasn't until he was on his way home that he could let his thoughts roam freely, and they went straight to dirty blond hair and green eyes.

_"Holy shit," Dean gasped as he stared at Castiel's back. From the top of his shoulder blades down to his lower back, was a pair of finely detailed angel wings. Dean ran a finger down Cas's spine as he admired the tattoo, making him shiver. The wings were torn, disheveled and falling apart. Feathers were missing in some spots, and the raw bone of the wings could be seen through. Along the inner edge of the right wing read in small cursive: Angela Rose Krushnic  1947-1998. "Your mother," he stated rather than asked._

_"Yes. The wings were in honor of her, and the battle she fought with brain cancer."_

_Dean nodded solemnly and continued to trace the edge of the broken wings. “Sleep well, Angela,” he whispered. Cas could feel Dean’s lips kiss him on the shoulder blade and he knew from the position it was right over his mother’s name._

For Castiel, it was confirmed in that moment he was falling in love with Dean.

~

Dean was somewhat surprised Cas had taken him up on the offer of helping paint his oncoming nephew’s nursery. He had only casually mentioned Sam’s suggestion in one late night phone call, but the doctor had jumped at the chance of getting to know his boyfriend’s family. So here they were, one week later, pulling up in the driveway of Samuel and Jessica Winchester’s Victorian style home. They both wore old t-shirts and jeans because paint stains were unavoidable; Cas borrowed pants from the mechanic because when Dean tried to find a not-so-nice pair of jeans in Cas’s closet, he got a “No Dean, not my Diesel jeans….No, those are Adriano Goldschmied, are you kidding me?!” His heather v-neck tee however, was “only Calvin Klein” and he wouldn’t mind getting spots on it. (Castiel’s expensive attire was something Dean liked but didn’t understand, and he didn’t understand why he liked it.)

Dean cut off the engine and stared at the house in nervous anticipation. He knew he really didn’t have a reason to be nervous, because Sam and Jess had already met Cas, but it was different now. Now that they were a couple, they would be under more scrutiny than before. He also knew that his brother and Jess had the tendency to interrogate, especially the nosy sister-in-law. He was sure to warn Cas of her dissecting nature, and he assured Dean it wasn’t easy to make him uncomfortable.

Well, we’ll see about that.

They got out of the car and made their way to the door, already causing the dogs Bones and Riot to bark incessantly from the back yard.

“Totally irrelevant question, but what do you think of dogs?” asked Dean after he rang the doorbell.

“Unnecessary and obnoxious, but not as evil as cats.”

“I can’t stand them either. My brother on the other hand-“

“Dean!” Jess greeted enthusiastically. She wore a side braid and overalls (who wore those anymore?) which had a circular pale blue spot in center of her protruding stomach. “And Castiel, it’s so lovely to see you again, and not in surgical scrubs.” She gave Dean a hug before doing the same with Cas, like they had known each other for years. She noticed the blond looking at the spot, and she giggled at herself. “Oh, I was standing a bit too close to the door when I was painting in the crevices. But come on in guys, we still got three walls left to do.”

The three of them went into the partially painted nursery, but not before Jess could whisper “He’s totally hot, ya done good,” to Dean. He failed to hide his growing smile.

They found Sam squatting near a corner, wearing a dusk mask and holding a paint spray gun. He was using stencils to spray paint brown elephants on the blue wall, indicating that the couple had decided upon a Serengeti theme. After a moment, he noticed the three of them and he stood up and pulled down the mask.

“Hey Dean, thanks for coming.” He slapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder in greeting, then turned to the shorter man beside him. “Cas, what’s up? It’s nice seeing you again,” he spoke warmly, and shook the doctor’s hand.

While Cas nodded in agreement, Dean noticed the shame hidden behind Sam’s eyes, the memory of the last time the two had met and the awful circumstances. He was going to act polite, sophisticated and…normal, as if to make it up to Cas.

“Okay guys! Unfortunately we only have two paint rollers, so one of us will have to kick it old school and use one of these brushes,” said Jess, while holding up a pair of wide paintbrushes.

“I’ll use it,” offered Castiel, and went to take one of them from Jess’s hand.

She ran her fingers over the bristles before handing it to Cas. “They’re kind of old, so the bristles are a bit kinky.” She lowered her voice before adding, “Like Amelia’s hair.”

Dean didn’t have any idea who Amelia was, but judging by his brother’s reaction, he did. Sam froze for a millisecond before turning towards his wife and giving her a prize-winning bitchface. Jess only ignored him, and began to open up one of the buckets of paint labeled “Hidden Meadow.”

Filing the Amelia thing under “things to ask about later,” Dean looked around awkwardly, before lighting up when he noticed a tarp-covered piece of furniture.

“Hey guys, can I take off that tarp for a minute? I wanna show Cas what landed me in the hospital.”

Cas looked over to the object curiously before Dean seized his arm and pulled him towards it. “I know I told you I was building something when I drilled through my hand, but I don’t think I told what it was. Well, this is it,” he said as he pulled off the cover, revealing the somewhat large white crib.

Castiel seemed taken aback by Dean’s impressive work, judging by his slack jaw and widened eyes. “Oh my goodness….you actually built this?” Castiel asked, gawking at the crib.

“All myself. And of course Sammy too, towards the end.”

Cas admired the structure, running a hand around one of the cornerposts. "And did you hand-carve these posts?"

"Yep. And the 'Baby Winchester' part was hand-engraved as well...that's probably why it doesn't look so great…"

"No no, it's beautiful, really. The boy is lucky to have an uncle like you."

Warmed by the compliment, Dean gave Castiel one of his rare, genuine smiles that seemed to be appearing more often lately.

“Yes he is,” Jess agreed, resting one hand on her tummy and wrapping another around her brother-in-law. “We’re all lucky to have Dean.”

 

With all four of them working together, the job went by rather quickly. Sam finished with the elephants and the others got the walls done with only one brief paint war to interrupt. Cas was to blame for the light green stripe across Dean’s shirt and partially down his arm, while the brunet’s borrowed jeans now have a brushstroke across the butt. Jess’s questions had remained general and routine while they had painted; they involved inquiries over the doctor’s hobbies, family, and schooling (to Dean’s relief).

Dean, Castiel, and Jess sat on top of nearly-empty paint cans and leaning against each other’s backs, while the female babbled about her work week and her upcoming maternity leave. Dean nudged Cas in the arm and mouthed _I told you she talks a lot_ , much to the doctor’s amusement.

In the kitchen, Sam rummaged through the pantry in search of some packaged cookies that the group could reward themselves with. With no luck, he called to his wife in the room down the hall. “Hey Jess? What happened to the Chips Ahoy?”

“Oh uh, I got hungry. Why don’t you just make us some, dear?” she called sweetly.

“Yeah, that’d be great if we actually had flour…or sugar.”

“Why don’t you borrow some from our neighbor? I’m sure Amelia would _love_ to give you some sugar,” Jess replied bitterly.

Cas and Dean looked at each other in confusion, just before Sam popped his head in the doorway, his annoyance tangible.

“Jess. Can you come in the kitchen please?”

The blonde rolled her eyes and flipped her hair off her shoulder before following her husband back down the hallway.

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. They’re doing this now, really? Why couldn’t they act like a normal, happy couple for once? Once?!

Though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, Dean could hear the angry whispers echoing in the kitchen, and he knew Cas could, too. He stood up suddenly and stretched, pulling Cas up with him.

“Thanks so much for helping us out, but right now we should probably help clean this stuff up and get out of here.”

The pair picked up brushes and blue tape, stacked trays and sealed paint cans before heading towards the door. Just as Dean went to grab the knob, the door swung open, revealing a clearly upset Sam. His fists quivered and his jaw was clenched in an attempt to keep himself together.

“Hey guys um…” He looked past the two and saw the tidied up room. “Oh, you didn’t have to all that,” he said shakily.

“It’s okay Sammy. We’re about to head out though, so if-“ He was cut off by the sound of a car door slamming shut and starting up in the driveway. Sam looked down at his feet and chewed his lip.

Realizing what was happening, Dean felt rooted to the floor and he turned his head to Cas shamefully, anxious to see the reaction to his family drama. Cas looked down at the paper-covered carpet and plucked at the bottom of his shirt in discomfort. Of course only Dean’s family could make the calm and collected Castiel Novak feel uncomfortable.

“Just um, call me later alright?” Dean muttered before moving past his brother, Cas following him closely until they got into the Impala and drove away.

In two months, Sam and Jess were going to become parents, but Dean was beginning to doubt the two could hold it together until then.


	14. Chapter 14

Cars on Sixth Street evacuated the left lane to make way for the green and yellow ambulance, of which blared a siren that echoed for miles. A young, Latino EMT named Carlos held onto a handle hanging down from the ceiling of the vehicle, prepared to face this next emergency with the same calm, put-together attitude he pulled off with all calls. The call this time came from Hartland Drive on the west side of the city; it sounded like a possible seizure. Carlos was confident it was nothing too serious, but he was wrong before.

The doors on the back of the ambulance had little windows, and he could see rows of houses passing by, indicating that they were close. A nice little neighborhood; the EMT’s sister lived close to here. She moved here six or seven years ago with her fiancé, a man Carlos all but despised. He smiled too much, he wore too much cologne, He liked K-State –

He was shaken from his thoughts when the vehicle halted to a stop, and one of his colleagues, Tony, grabbed the handle and pushed the doors open. He jogged after him to the front door of a blue house, the one owned by the caller. They burst through the front door and almost immediately confronted the scene.

A dark-haired man, early thirties, kneeled over another man who was wrapped tightly in a blanket, probably to control the muscle spasms, and had his head held still by the other’s hands. While a paramedic knelt down to observe the patient, Carlos saw the dark-haired man’s head raise up, and he was surprised he actually recognized him.

“Dr. Novak?” he asked with a tone of shock. “Tell me what happened.”

The doctor looked back down at the blond, unconscious man and took in a deep breath.  “About fifteen minutes ago he uh, h-he said he was suddenly feeling nauseous, and then he vomited in the grass – we were outside at the time – and um, we came inside and then he began convulsing. I don’t – I’m not sure what caused this.” He swallowed hard and continued shakily, “He’s barely breathing. He could die of asphyxiation.”

“Stretcher and oxygen, now.” commanded the paramedic. Tony and Carlos retrieved the objects in a flash, and the patient had all four of them to get him connected to oxygen to regulate his intake, and strapped down onto the stretcher (with some difficulty, he was thrashing about). Carlos noticed the doctor put on a front of well-practiced composure, but his eyes told a different story. He was panicking for this man (who was what, a friend? Relative?) and he had no explanation for his symptoms.

Dr. Novak chose to ride in the ambulance with – What was his name? – Dean, his friend (possibly more than friend). He sat next to the stretcher, his face lined with concern and his white-knuckled fists balled up in his lap. Carlos followed the doctor’s gaze to Dean’s body, which continued to spasm uncontrollably underneath the straps. The paramedic connected the patient to an I.V. and pulled some tubes out of a bag, labeled _Dantrium_ and _Vicodin._ Though Dean was unconscious, everyone in the back of that ambulance knew he was undergoing incredible pain.

* * *

 

**_Two hours earlier_ **

Dean wouldn't really consider himself "out-of-shape," but he just didn't do as much cardio exercise as he probably should. He’ll go jogging with his fitness-nut brother less than monthly, but he thought himself more of a weight bench kind of guy. But Cas, the medical professional he was, knew the importance of regular exercise, so Dean wasn’t surprised the other man went running when he found the time. The mechanic agreed to run with him this Saturday morning not because he liked it, but of course because he liked Cas and it would make the doctor happy.

“It’s about 2.2 miles to this bistro I really like, we can have a light lunch there before heading back,” suggested Castiel. The pair sat opposite each other in Cas’s driveway under the shade of a tree, doing some half-hearted stretching. The doctor leaned forward and wrapped his hands around his foot, and Dean noticed the fancy sport watch he was wearing. It showed _11:09_ in large, bold numbers on the square face. The watch was the same brand as Cas’s shoes, shorts, and dry-fit tee. Dean chuckled to himself. Did this man ever wear anything that wasn’t top of the line?

“What is it?” Cas asked, noticing Dean’s smirk.

“Nothing, Tim Gunn.” He stood up and dusted off his butt before squinting at the sun through the tree’s leaves. “So we’re running over four miles? You realize it’s like ninety degrees out here, right?”

He shrugged and stood up himself. “We’ll have a good break halfway.” Dean didn’t respond. He _may_ have told his new boyfriend that he enjoyed jogging once or twice per week. “We could also walk part of the way back, if you want,” Cas offered.

Too prideful to admit his lazy lifestyle, Dean countered, “I don’t need to walk, YOU need to…walk.” Cas raised his eyebrows at the blond’s bad comeback, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Shut up,” Dean muttered, and started off down the street, without waiting for Cas to start his watch.

…

“C’mon, see the red and green sign? We’re almost there,” Cas encouraged. Though Dean ran a little slower, Cas matched his pace so that Dean wouldn’t feel bad for bringing up the rear of their two-man pack. Dean nodded, breathing too heavily to reply.

A minute longer, and they made it to the parking lot of Hannigram’s French Bistro. They took a few minutes to catch their breath (A couple of minutes extra for Dean) and they went inside.

“There he is, my Slavic friend! I wonder when you be back,” the owner greeted Cas in his foreign accent.

“Hello Bajram. It’s been a while, I know. It’ll be two today, please,” said Cas.

“Two? Ah, you meet someone new, my friend?” Bajram asked, peeking over at Dean.

“Yes, this is Dean Winchester.” He moved out of the way so the two could shake hands.

“Hello, Mr. Dean,” he greeted before turning back to Cas, “He good guy?”

“Yes he is. He’s nothing like the other one if that’s what you’re asking.”

Bajram nodded in approval. “Sorry, Castiel, but other one, he fell from tree, he did.”

“Should have listened to you, Baj.”

“And you know by now, Slavic boy, I am always right!”

Cas smiled and nodded in agreement, and Bajram let the waitress take over. When they were seated and had ordered their drinks, Dean eyed the brunet questioningly. “Fell from tree?”

“Baj thought Crowley was a nutcase.” Cas picked up the menu and scanned the list even though he got the same thing almost every time. “He was right about that one,” he sighed.

“Hm.” Dean picked up his own menu and looked over the appetizers. “ _Crab boulettes du fromage…Escargot…Spinach Quiche…_ You know, that guy doesn’t even sound French.”

“Oh, he’s not,” Cas replied without looking up from the menu. “I believe he’s Albanian.”

“Of course he is.” Dean sounded disappointed in the lack of authenticity.

After ordering, Cas got the mechanic to open up more about his childhood, including the story of the car accident that ended his mother’s life when he was a small boy. She had requested that John pick up milk, diapers, grape jelly, and pie on his way home from work. There was one item on the list he forgot to get: the pie. It was going to be a surprise for Dean, since he didn’t want to wait until Thanksgiving to have pecan pie. John had lied to Mary, claiming the store had run out. She picked up her purse, told him to keep an eye on their boys, and left. She never came back.

Cas used his finger to draw lines in the condensation on his cup while he exhaled in remorse. "That shock...the realization that she's never coming back. I know that feeling." He dropped his hand and looked back up at Dean. "We didn't find out my mom had stage IV brain cancer until three weeks before she died. She figured the chances of chemotherapy actually helping her were slim and she didn't want to 'burden' us with worry and hospital visits. And she knew, -assuming she would live that long- she knew that I wouldn't even try to go to college if she was sick and alone. She knew I would want to stay home and take care of her, and she just wouldn't have that."

The doctor mentioned his mother fairly often, and Dean could not imagine how devastated Cas was when he found out she was dying. Dean was only a toddler when his own mother passed, so he barely remembered her. "I get the feeling you two were pretty tight."

Cas nodded at the understatement. "She taught me everything from cooking to dating, she was the only member of my family that supported me when I came out, she really was my best friend." He smiled sadly. "I was the definition of a mamma's boy."

Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah, Cas. Normally people get small ankle or chest tattoos in honor of their moms, but the huge-ass wings kind of say a lot."

Cas withdrew the hand Dean didn't realize he was holding and folded his arms. "I thought you liked my wings!" he said, pretending to be taken aback.

"Never said I didn't, babe. I think they're sexy as --"

"Seafood gumbo?" the waitress asked, making her presence known. She set down their food before sauntering back into the kitchen, muffling her snickers with her hand.

"Sexy as seafood gumbo. Exactly what I was going to say." Dean scooped up some of the concoction with his spoon, watching the roux drain down the side of it to reveal a small piece of calamari, the tentacles twisted and tangled resembling a mangled hand. "Because seafood gumbo is pretty sexy."

~

“Perhaps it’s not my place to ask, but I will anyway. How are Sam and Jess doing after their little…um…”

“Skirmish?” Dean offered, and shook his head at the ground. The two rounded the corner onto Cas’s street on their way back from the restaurant; they had walked most of the way because the summer sun beating down on them seemed to drain their energy levels. After eating, the two had stayed a while to chat with Bajram about various topics from mountain climbing in Colorado to living in poverty in south-east Europe. Dean now had the knowledge to make home-made hand soap from animal fat just in case one day he decided he needed to do just that. “I don’t know, Sam hasn’t called me yet. I don’t get those two. First it was the drinking, then Sam said he wasn’t ready for kids, and now apparently there’s some chick getting between them? It’s like they’re looking for excuses to fight. Maybe they get off on it.”

“They seem like a happy couple one minute, but then the next…I don’t know.” Cas didn’t want to insult Dean’s family, but that marriage definitely wasn’t healthy.

“It’s okay, I know what you mean. I didn’t want to get involved, I wanted them to iron out this stupidity on their own, but it looks like I might have to.” Dean noticed a pair of kids sitting at a table in their driveway, a neon green poster board was taped to the front that read **_Fresh-Squeezed Lemonade 50₵_**. The kids, a girl around 9 and a boy a year or two younger, stared at the two of them as if they were the first potential customers they’ve seen all day. “Because there are more than two lives involved now…God, I feel those kids are staring into my soul.”

“Hm, I thought the only children on this street were the ones that live next door,” Cas thought aloud, squinting at the two as if they were a figment of his imagination.

“I haven’t seen a lemonade stand in years. Shouldn’t they be inside playing that zombie-killing video game like every other kid in the universe?”

“I don’t know Dean, but their mind-control powers are starting to work on me.” Cas reached into the zipper-pocket of his shorts and pulled out a dollar bill. “Plus, you look like you’re about six seconds from dying of dehydration.”

“Hey guys,” Dean greeted the children. He looked around the deserted street before walking up the driveway towards them. “Been getting any business?”

The young girl looked at the empty money jar beside her and sighed sadly. “No.”

Dean looked down at the cups of lemonade set in three perfectly even rows. Both kids wore clear latex gloves on their hands, probably for sanitary lemon-squeezing. Cute.

“Well it’s very hot out here, and we would each love a cup,” said Cas, handing over the dollar.

“Thank you, sir!” the kids said in unison. The men each picked up a cup and thanked them, when the girl shot her hand up towards Dean.

“Nosirnotthatone!” she exclaimed and startled him to the point that he nearly dropped the lemonade in his hand. “Not that one. I think um, I think a bug flew in that one.” She picked up another cup and handed it to him, taking the other from him. “Here, take this one.”

“Oh uh, okay. Thanks.”

They continued their walk down the street while sipping from the small foam cups. When they were out of the kids’ earshot, the mechanic gave Cas a face of disgust.

“This lemonade is _really_ bitter. How are you even drinking it?”

The brunet looked down into his cup and frowned. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Dude are you sure?” He took another sip and immediately regretted it. “This is some potent shit.”

“You must have a pretty low threshold for sour tastes, because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this lemonade. I can tell it’s not fresh-squeezed, the little shits, but still.”

Despite his obvious disdain, Dean continued to drink his beverage and mumbled to himself, “It’s like gasoline.”

They finally made it to Castiel’s house, and the doctor knew he was ready to feel some cold A/C. Holding the cup upside-down in his fingers, Cas walked up the driveway, watching his reflection in the Impala’s shiny black body. “Do you want to shower here and stay a while or do you need to – Dean?” He turned around to see Dean not directly behind him, but still standing next to the curb.

“Cas…I dunno if it’s the sun or the running or the seafood but…”

“What’s wrong?” He walked back over to the mechanic and put a hand on his chin, raising his face to his. Dean looked awful. Like, _miserable_.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

Cas brushed the dark blond hair off of his boyfriend’s forehead, eyeing him in concern. “You probably _are_ dehydrated, so let’s get you inside and load you up with some electrolytes, okay?” He grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the house, but Dean wouldn’t budge. “Babe?”

He stared blankly at Cas for a moment before suddenly shoving him to the side so he could fall to his knees in the grass and vomit a lovely mixture of cocoa puffs, seafood gumbo and lemonade.

Cas kneeled next to him and rubbed his back comfortingly, and for a moment Dean stopped. “I’m okay,” he muttered, just before hurling again.

After another minute, Castiel was able to half-carry him inside the house, sitting him down on the sofa so he could retrieve a bucket, some water, and a small towel. When he returned with said items, he found Dean hunched over and holding his stomach while shivering relentlessly. Cas figured Dean would feel better after throwing up, but this was not the case. In fact, he looked even worse now than he did a few minutes ago. He hurried over and set the bucket down in front of him and lifted his shoulders to look at his face. “Dean? Dean! Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in any pain? Are you cold, do you need a blanket?”

The green eyes he stared into were glazed over, and Cas feared Dean wasn’t even hearing him right now. “Answer me, Dean, this is important! Do I need to call an ambulance?”

The blond stilled for just a second, before he was abruptly torn from the doctor’s grip in an involuntary jerk backwards. Then Dean’s arms and legs were thrashing around and he fell to the floor, moaning and convulsing helplessly. Like an instinctive reaction, Cas snatched up his phone and dialed 911. As quickly as he could without having to repeat himself, he gave the dispatcher an overview of the situation, all while trying to drag Dean to an open area of floor so he would stop hitting the furniture and hurting himself. When the spasms didn’t look like they were going to end anytime soon, he took the throw blanket off of the arm chair and did his best to tuck it in around Dean in a makeshift straitjacket, but it was too small and got kicked off of his body. Instead, he had to rip the comforter off of his perfectly-made bed and roll the slightly larger man in a giant taquito. Which would be funny if Cas wasn’t on the verge of tears.

He sat on his knees behind Dean’s head and held it still, wishing he knew what had caused this pain endured by the man he was falling for. What was it Dean was going on about before he vomited? Running in the heat? No, that would have affected him earlier, not when they had finally made it home. Was it the food? No, Cas had eaten some of Dean’s gumbo and wasn’t sickened by it. It wasn’t the lemonade, he had some of that as well. He played the day’s events over and over in his mind, desperately seeking answers. Did he have any open wounds, could it be an infection? No, no, NO! This is not how infections work. He was emotionally compromised and it was making him forget everything he had ever learned in med school. What about that waitress? There was something weird about her, could she have…?

Cas was thinking so hard he almost didn’t notice the frothing at Dean’s mouth. What was this, fucking rabies? Holy hell, what the fuck was taking that ambulance so long, it’s been what – only six minutes, really?

He realized that the spasms had slowed, and that could mean many things, and Cas immediately thought the worst. He hovered his hand over Dean’s mouth and nose, feeling for any kind of air flow. He exhaled in short, irregularly spaced-out bursts – like his lungs were gasping for air. The doctor took a deep breath and pinched Dean’s nose, then placed his mouth on the other man’s and forced air into his body. He continued this while praying to a god he didn’t believe in to send His angels down and rescue this wonderful man from what could end up a painful death.


	15. Dr. Sad

Sam cut the engine of his black Dodge Charger in the garage of Jessica’s and his home. His fingers drummed nervously on top of the steering wheel, as he was hesitant to go inside. Jess was still angry about the Amelia argument last week, a fight _she_ started. Women, man! He adored his wife, he really did, but these pregnancy hormones were making her borderline intolerable. He took a deep breath, grabbed the grocery bag and flowers, and got out of the car.

He set the bag down on the kitchen island, and ran a hand through his hair. She was watching TV when he left for the grocery store, so she might be in a better mood now. Lately, he was never sure. He picked up the bouquet and tiptoed into the living room. The TV was off, but Jess was still sitting on the couch with her feet tucked up and laying sideways, using a finger to scroll through baby names on her iPad. The couch faced away from the kitchen, so Sam was able to successfully sneak up behind her. The arm holding the bouquet went over the back of the sofa so that Jess could now see brightly-colored flowers staring up at her. She gasped softly, and he leaned down to lay a kiss on top of her head. “For my beautiful wife.”

She leaned her head back to look up at him, the irritation in her expression gone. He gave her his sincerely-apologetic smile and she seemed to have accepted it, returning the smile with a small smirk of her own. “Thank you.”

She set the tablet aside and took the flowers, and Sam walked around to sit next to her on the couch. “Okay, I get it. I’m a shithead sometimes, and I see that now. I can blame it on work, I can blame it on you, or even the baby, but at the end of the day, none of the drinking or fighting or whatever even matters. I love you, and if it means I gotta put away the bottle or stop talking to the neighbors –“

“Sam, stop.” She interrupted. “Listen, I know there’s nothing going on between you and Amelia, I just get a little…crazy sometimes. You’re a good husband and you don’t deserve all the shit I give you. Lately I feel like I’ve just been looking for arguments because…well, because…”

“Because…?”

She bit her lip and tugged on her own long blonde curls. “Because…I don’t know, because I’m just moody like that.” She faked a grin and Sam could swear she looked nervous all of a sudden. “But that…doesn’t matter. I have no reason to be acting that way, right? Not anymore.”

Sam shrugged before cocking his head to the side. “What do you mean, ‘not anymore’?”

“And I love you too, Sam.” She leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. “How do you feel about Evan Jeremiah?”

“Oh, um It’s alright I guess. But Jess- “

 _Carry On Wayward Son_ interrupted his speech, so he dug into his pocket to get his phone.

“Oh, who’s that? I bet it’s Amelia,” Jess said, sing-songing their neighbor’s name. He shot her a look, making her laugh. “JOKING. Jeez, when did you lose your humor?”

Sam looked down at the device, swiping it to answer. “It’s Cas,” he told her, raising the phone to his ear.

 _Why is he calling YOU?_ She mouthed to her husband.

 _I don’t know,_ he mouthed back. “Hello?”

 

~

Clocks are the worst. A pair of hands are pinned to the round face, spread out wide, screaming _HEY. Over here! LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME!!_ Their stupid faces and their stupid hands and that stupid second hand, (how ironic that it’s the second hand when it is perhaps, the third hand on the clock) and how it ticks. Ticks. Ticks. Relentless and impatient yet forever circling and retracing its pitiful path of sixty ticks only to repeat the mundane routine. How daunting the seemingly simple object can be to humans, for it has received the power to represent time, a non-renewable resource of which is a fundamental cause of nearly all stressors that exist to the species. The clock on the wall of the ER waiting room at Lawrence Memorial Hospital deals its own significant amount of stress, and right now as it passes the 12 for the forty-eighth time since Dean’s ambulance arrived, Castiel wants to introduce that noisy object to the head of a sledgehammer.

Cas turned his head to the right and sees Jessica in the seat next to his. The pregnant blonde sat frozen as a statue; her fists were clamped together in front of her mouth with her thumbnails in between her teeth as silent tears cleared paths through the powdery makeup on her cheeks. Why did she cry? They had no word on Dean’s condition yet, and crying wouldn’t help anything anyway. Sam sat on the other side of her, looking more irritated than anything else. His knee bounced impatiently and he kept running his hand over the sides of his mouth to retain his composure. Green eyes darted around in search of a nurse who could give them any information, and his flared nostrils told Cas that he was moments away from standing up to hunt one down himself.

When the ambulance first made it to the hospital, Castiel had insisted on going into the room with Dean, maybe even help with the tests to figure out the issue. Unfortunately, the other doctors requested he wait outside, much to Cas’s dismay. He argued that he was a doctor too, employed at this very hospital for Christ’s sakes, but they denied him, claiming he was emotionally compromised and his relationship with the patient would get in the way of diagnosis. Then, the surgeon found it in him to realize that he would do the same if he were in their position, so he retreated to the waiting room and called Sam, knowing the younger brother would be upset if he hadn’t been notified immediately of Dean’s admittance.

When Cas saw the couple run into the room towards him, demanding answers, he explained everything that happened that day as calmly as he could. Even afterwards, the two still weren’t satisfied, but Cas understood because neither was he. This type of thing didn’t just happen randomly.

“Doctor Nov- um, Castiel?” The voice came from the doorway, and Cas’s head shot up, and he was standing before he realized it.

“Doctor Uriel.” Sam and Jess stood up as well; Cas could almost hear their hearts pounding just as hard as his own. “Is he okay?”

Dr. Uriel sighed down at the medical chart in his hand before hesitantly holding it out to Castiel. Cas rushed forward and snatched up the chart, skimming over the numbers and reading the diagnostics.

“Right now he’s…stable. We took his blood and he tested positive for strychnine.”

Cas nearly dropped the clipboard.

Sam’s breath hitched, and he gaped disbelievingly at the African-American doctor.

“W-what does that mean?” Jess asked, looking back and forth between the three men.

“He was –“ Sam ran a nervous hand through his hair. “My brother was _poisoned?_ How the hell-“

“Oh my God,” Cas exhaled in realization. Of course! Why didn’t he suspect anything in the first place? “The lemonade. He complained it was bitter.” He heard Jess curse under her breath as she buried her face in her hands. “Shit, why didn’t I question it? I should have known…”

Sam’s eyebrows scrunched together as he turned towards Cas. “Woah woah woah, you’re saying a couple of _kids_ poisoned Dean? That doesn’t make any sense. What would they have against him? They don’t even know him!”

“It’s the only thing that _does_ make sense! It might have been an accident, they could’ve, I don’t know, kept a rodenticide in the same cabinet as the cups. Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. All that matters is that Dean is okay,” Cas retorted, and went back to reading the chart.

“If you still have the cup,” started Dr. Uriel, “we can test the remaining contents. You could have a felony charge on your hands if you think-“

Castiel interrupted him with another shocked expression. “You put him into a _coma_?” His hand was poised over the clipboard, holding the first two pages of the chart.

“Yes. He’s on a variety of drugs, plus we’ve started the decontamination process. It was really our only option.”

“How long?” asked Sam.

“It seems to be a sub-lethal dose, so we’d expect it to be no more than a week. But we aren’t certain yet.”

The lawyer’s jaw clenched and he cocked his head to the side. “’Seems to be sub-lethal.’ So basically, he _could_ die.”

Behind him, Jess whimpered before she completely broke down in high-pitched sobs.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Dr. Uriel assured him, but it was futile. He took the chart back from Castiel and tucked it under his arm. “As it’s early in his treatment, Mr. Winchester won’t be taking any visitors until at least noon tomorrow. I suggest you all go home and get some rest while your loved one is being taken care of. I understand Dr. Novak has a shift tomorrow morning, and I’m sure he’ll keep you updated.” He nodded towards Cas and excused himself before leaving the three alone.

Castiel put a hand to his forehead and sighed deeply. This couldn’t really be happening. Where could a pair of children get a hold of such a lethal substance? And why Dean? He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but this wasn’t an accident. Otherwise, he would have been affected as well. Perhaps the kids’ parents were psycho killers, and plotted out this entire mess?

He looked over to Sam, who currently had his arms wrapped around his sobbing wife. He could see the frustration in his expression, like he was trying to keep himself from freaking out.

“Cas?” Sam spoke softly over Jess’s head. “Tell us the truth. You must have dealt with this type of thing before, do you think he’ll make it?”

Cas walked back over to the chairs and slowly lowered himself into his seat. “He has survived thus far, and we’re past the worst of it. It is likely that he’ll make it, but…”

Jess pulled away from Sam and swiped away her tears with the heel of her hand. “But what?” she choked out.

“But it’s the comatose I’m worried about. He said no more than a week, but he can’t know that. Once decontamination is done, there’s no telling when he’ll come to.”

“Or if,” Sam finished, knowing what the surgeon meant. Cas nodded slowly. “I’m gonna kill those fucking kids.”

“You can’t honestly believe they did this on purpose,” Jess began.

“Oh I’m sorry. Murder all the people you want as long as it’s not on purpose, right?”

“He’s not dead, Sam!”

“He might not wake up, Jess!! He might as well be.”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ say that. He’s your brother, of course it fucking matters if he’s alive –“

“I DIDN’T SAY it doesn’t matter, I’m saying something needs to be done about –“

“JESUS _CHRIST_ DO YOU TWO EVER SHUT UP?!” Cas shouted.

Sam and Jess immediately fell silent and both stared at the doctor, mouths slightly agape.

“I don’t get out a lot, so my ‘people skills’ are ‘rusty,’ but even I know this is not the time nor place for you to have stupid-ass arguments about kids today with their _texting_ and _murder_. Now I’m going to go home, hop into my scrubs, and go check on Dean because he is the _only_ thing I care about right now. When I see you two again tomorrow, I am _certain_ you will have found it in you to stow your shit and focus on somebody else for a change.”

With one last angry glare, Cas turned away from them and left the room.

~

When Castiel returned to the hospital less than an hour later, he wore his uniform, including the white coat and ID tag. He walked swiftly down the hallway, nodding at a few passing nurses.

“Dr. Novak, here on a Saturday?” Cas stopped when Dr. Richard Gabriel popped up in front of him, a red lollipop dangling from his lips. The obstetrician-gynecologist pulled out the lollipop and pointed at him with it. “You need to get a life man. All work and no play makes Jack a dull robot with no friends.”

The surgeon sighed in irritation. He didn’t dislike Dr. Gabriel, but sometimes the other man was painfully obnoxious. Especially now that Cas had other things on his mind. “I’m not actually working today. Someone I know has just been moved to the ICU and I wanted to check on him.”

The shorter doctor hummed thoughtfully. “Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“He ingested strychnine.”

Dr. Gabriel’s eyebrows drew together and he hesitated to see if Castiel was joking. “Strych- how the hell did he –“

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to go see him now.” He stepped around the OB-GYN and hurried to Dean’s room, zipping past a couple of other coworkers that greeted him.

Cas had of course seen Dean in a hospital bed before, but not like this. He entered the room and found a pair of nurses whom he was not familiar with, monitoring Dean’s vitals and dropping more drugs into the IV. A blonde one who had “Lilith” written on her name tag spotted him and smiled.

“Doctor, didn’t know you’d be in this afternoon. Just giving Mr. Winchester some more Atropine after that little scare he gave us a while ago.”

Cas studied Dean’s unconscious face, or what he could see around the oxygen mask. He looked a little paler than before, and his hair, which was perfectly spiked to his right this morning, now stuck messily in different directions. If Cas was any closer, he would be tempted to smooth it down for him. “Which scare?”

Lilith resealed the Atropine sulfate vial and dropped it into the biohazard waste dispenser mounted on the wall. “Oh, about twenty minutes ago he went into cardiac arrest. It took almost four minutes to revive him, we thought he was gone.”

Castiel’s heart sank. For four minutes, Dean was dead? Uriel made it sound like he was going to be fine! His fingernails dug into his palms and he drew in a shaky breath. “Well it sounds like what he needs right now is epinephrine,” he said, trying not to let his worry show through his voice.

“We’ve already got him on epinephrine. Give him more, and he might wake up and that’ll just make everything more difficult. Even though we’ve got him juiced up on muscle relaxers and anti-convulsants, if he wakes up, he may start spazzing like freakin’ Mick Jagger on cocaine.”

Her nonchalant tone made Cas’s eye twitch. What gave her the right to joke about Dean’s painful symptoms? For the sake of his own self-respect, he hoped he wasn’t as dismissive as she with his own patients’ problems.

“I’m going to be keeping an eye on him for a little while, so why don’t you go ahead and tend to your other patients.” His arm extended towards the doorway indicated he wasn’t going to tell her twice.

She raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise said nothing. She walked out of the room while the other nurse finished writing on her clipboard.

“Do you…want me to leave too?” She turned her hazel eyes on Cas, looking a little intimidated by the six foot general surgeon.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Nurse, uh…”

“Tessa,” she told him, and offered him her clipboard.

He took it and thanked her, noticing immediately her perfect handwriting. “I’ll only need a few minutes to um, observe…”

“Of course, Dr. Novak. You can give that back to me whenever you’re done.” She then hurried out of the room, not wanting to piss off her superior.

He walked around the bed and sat in the armchair at the corner of the room. Flipping through the charts and notes, he kept stealing glances at Dean, a part of him feeling like the blond would stop breathing if he wasn’t watching carefully. His eyes stopped moving when they fell upon two words.

_6/15/13  2:28pm – Heart stopped_

That was all it said. _Heart stopped –_ written in even, perfectly straight letters. It was simple, understated. Not **_DEAN WINCHESTER FUCKING DIED FOR A FEW MINUTES OMG_** in all caps and messy, panicked handwriting. No. Just _Heart stopped._ As if cardiac arrest was as common an occurrence as brushing your teeth. _2:28pm._ That was right after Cas left the hospital in his silver Lexus.

He set the clipboard down on the tile floor and picked up his chair, bringing it closer to the bed. He reached over and gently smoothed down Dean’s messy hair, letting his fingertips linger in the soft locks.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Dean Winchester?” he whispered to his comatose boyfriend. He leaned forward and kissed his cheek, while letting the fingers of his other hand curl around Dean’s wrist. “You’d better not die on me again or I’ll- I’ll-.” He softly scratched the mechanic’s scalp, something he had quickly learned that the conscious Dean liked. “You don’t deserve this, I would give anything for it to be me instead. God, I wish it was me instead…”

His thumb stroked Dean’s wrist and Cas continued to stare helplessly at him while the sun sank lower into the sky.


	16. Chapter 16

In the navy sky above, the crescent moon emitted a soft glow that shown through Castiel’s windshield, and reflected off of the fingerprint-covered cell phone screen in the doctor’s hands. A bead of sweat trickled from the nape of his neck down past the collar of his pale blue scrub top, and his chest remained still and tense due to his aborted breathing. _Just stay in the car._ In his rearview mirror, two orbs of white light grew large as the vehicle behind him pulled up close. _Just stay in the car, don’t even acknowledge his presence._ The lights cut off, and the sound of a car door opening and slamming quickly echoed throughout the neighborhood. _He can’t get you, the doors are locked. Just stay in the car._ As expected, the dark silhouette now standing outside Cas’s window gave the door handle a tug, but it snapped back in protest. Cas didn’t even flinch. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that if he ignored him or pretended he wasn’t there, Crowley would go away. _Just ignore him, he can’t do anything to you as long as you’re safe inside the car._ Footsteps. He was…walking away? Castiel opened his eyes to see Crowley standing by the front door of the house, bent over as if to pick something up. Judging by the curled, tense posture of his back, the ‘something’ was heavy. The man in the black suit turned back around, holding Cas’s stone statuette of an angel mid-prayer - the one his mother used to keep in her flower garden.

What is he going to do with _that_?

Crowley trudged back to his original position by the driver’s window, and holding the stone angel by its base, he drew it back sideways, like a professional baseball player getting ready to hit a fly ball and score a homerun.

Lord _please,_ no.

In an instant, Cas threw up his arms to cover his head and he bent over towards the passenger seat as the angel came flying towards the window. His entire body shuddered when the sound of the impact rang in his ears, but the window did not break. Crowley had merely chipped the surface, but Cas didn’t get much time to contemplate how far car safety has come as the angry Brit hit the glass again. The surgeon watched in horror as the angel’s head repeatedly banged against the window, while a spider web of cracks formed and trailed outward, growing as quickly as Castiel’s fear. With one last determined swing, the window shattered in an explosion of glass as small shards flew at Cas’s raised arms, leaving a series of tiny cuts on his left forearm and cheek. The next thing he saw was the driver door flying open and Crowley reached forward, gripped the doctor by the wrists, and tugged on them as if he was trying to pull them from their sockets. Cas struggled against him and raised his legs so he could kick Crowley in the face as hard as he could, but the salesman punched him in the gut to momentarily paralyze him. Cas was pulled out of the car, but under his struggles, he fell onto his cement driveway. He cried out as the pieces of glass on the ground dug into his flesh, breaking the skin on his face, arms, and chest, but Crowley quieted him when he kicked him roughly in the temple. The salesman grabbed a handful of dark brown hair and yanked Cas to his feet, resulting in nausea to swirl in the doctor’s head and stomach with the sudden movement. The shorter man snatched up the keys from the front seat of the Lexus and dragged the doctor towards the house, the blood from Castiel’s wounds leaving a spotted trail behind the two men. Cas felt dizzy and his vision was a blur, but he continued his attempts to get away. Crowley managed to get himself and the doctor inside the house and Cas felt himself be thrown onto the floor of the dark entryway.

Castiel didn’t have time to defend himself when Crowley suddenly appeared on top of him, sending his fist to collide with the doctor’s jaw. And then he did it again. And again. And again. Cas felt himself losing consciousness, but Crowley didn’t stop until the doctor turned his head sideways to spit out the pool of blood in his mouth, leaving a residual irony taste on his tongue. At that moment, the salesman stood up and disappeared. In a pathetic gesture of surrender, Castiel curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his bleeding chest. He stilled when he thought he might have heard sirens in the distance, but the sound of Crowley’s shoes against the wood flooring distracted him. They stopped in front of Cas’s face, and the doctor looked back up at the Brit’s hateful expression of fiery eyes and a stiff jaw. Cas stared back, wondering how the hell this man earned his trust in the first place. He almost didn’t notice the wrought-iron fireplace prod in the other man’s hand.

_I’m going to die._

Besides the mind-numbing pain and the warm river of blood flowing from his face and torso, Castiel doesn’t remember much after that.

~

Castiel Novak sat up in bed shivering, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He hadn’t dreamt about that night in weeks, maybe months, but as used to it as he should be by now, the nightmare still gave him panic attacks from time to time. He ran his hands over his face and glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. He still had over an hour before he would normally wake up for work. Usually, he would turn back over and try to go back to sleep, but this time, he knew it would be useless. He already had trouble sleeping since Dean was admitted; the nightmares didn’t help. Dean had been in the hospital for three days now, and each morning Castiel would bolt upright at the sound of his alarm. He was anxious to go check on his boyfriend, to see that he was doing okay or if there was any indication that he would be waking up soon. With that mixture of concern and excitement now stuck inside his brain, he jumped out of bed and headed for the shower.

At the hospital, Cas greeted Anna, Meg and Rachel in a way of showing that he was there, but then he made his way towards the ICU with his best friend at his heels. For genuine concern for the mechanic or for moral support, she didn’t specify, but the doctor was glad he had someone to accompany him with his frequent Dean visits.

“How did your date go with Luke?” he inquired, breaking the silence as the two waited for the elevator. Meg knew he didn’t really care all that much, he was only returning the favor, but she answered him anyway.

“We ate at Macaroni Grill and watched the new Superman movie with that sexy guy in it. We talked about his job, his car, his brothers, his favorite sports teams, blah blah blah Luke Luke Luke. All he ever talks about is himself.” The two stepped inside the elevator and when the doors closed leaving the pair alone, she sighed sadly. “He didn’t even kiss me goodnight, the narcissistic bastard.” Castiel shook his head in sympathy. “I could let you in on the juicy gossip of every single one of Luke Satano’s coworkers, though.”

For the rest of the way to Dean’s room, the two remained quiet. As they approached, a police officer could be seen standing outside the doorway as he questioned Dr. Uriel. Cas recognized him; it was the same deputy he spoke with the day previous concerning the investigation. The officer noticed the pair and waved them over with a two-fingered _come quickly_ gesture.

“Officer Henricksen,” the surgeon greeted him.

“Good morning Doctor Novak. I’m glad you’re here, I wanted to speak with you about our…findings.” Cas wasn’t sure what the deputy’s pause implied, but any information he was willing to share was more than welcome. Officer Henricksen glanced at Meg, who always looked slightly uneasy in the presence of law enforcement. “Preferably in private,” he added.

“Miss Masters,” Dr. Uriel spoke up, “Will you assist me down in Imaging, please?”

Meg nodded quickly and followed him back to the elevators. Stepping around the officer, Cas entered the patient room, deeming it sufficiently 'private.' The sight that welcomed him differed not from the day before, perhaps except for the added stubble dotting Dean's square jawline. The surgeon sighed in a mixture of disappointment and relief. He took a step closer to the bed and heard Officer Henricksen clear his throat from behind him.

"Have a seat, doctor."

Castiel did not sit, nor did he turn his eyes away from the unconscious man. "Tell me what you found," he heard himself say, an uncharacteristically commanding tone hardening his words.

With his mouth pressed into a thin line, Henricksen walked over to the bed to stand beside the doctor.

"We are still searching for the suspects. We seem to have run into a few...inconveniences along the way." Cas remained silent while he waited for the cop to continue.

"As we've discussed yesterday, the lemonade he drank is indeed the source of the strychnine. However, none of your neighbors claim to have seen the lemonade stand, or can identify the children. The address where the stand was reportedly located...the house has been on the market for over a month, and the owner -we questioned him yesterday- has no, nor any relation to, any children. Even better...we searched for fingerprints on both cups, and only found yours and Dean's."

Cas chuckled humorlessly. "That's probably because they were wearing latex gloves. Oh-so-conveniently." He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Two innocent looking children that seem to have come from nowhere  attempt murder, and then drop of the face of the earth minutes later. All the details were planned out perfectly. But why Dean? Of all people, why the handsome mechanic with a big smile and even bigger heart? Surely his number of enemies must be few, if any at all. That should narrow it down, right?

"They were wearing gloves? That's another sign that points to intention. Do you remember any other details that might help?"

The doctor had already given his statement, in which he described the kids' appearances to the best of his ability. He couldn't think of any other information he could give them, so he shook his head regretfully.

"Does Dean have any enemies?" Henricksen asked instead.

"None that I know of, but I've only known him for a few months. You might get a better answer from his brother, Sam. He and his wife Jessica will most likely be back here this afternoon," Cas supplied.

A few minutes later, Officer Henricksen left Cas alone with Dean, after agreeing to speak with Sam later that day. Silence fell upon the room, except for the soft beeping of monitoring equipment.

"There are sick people, and then there are _sick people_ ," Cas said mostly to himself. _The latter of which I have no cure for,_ he thought helplessly.

...

That afternoon, a small part of the medical staff huddled into an unused private waiting room (A neurosurgeon, Dr. Bradbury, named their new hideaway "the Hobbit Hole") to gorge on some baked goodies Dr. Gabriel had brought (no one was sure how he even acquired all those sweets when he hardly ever left the hospital). It was miraculous that Meg was able to coax Cas into doing anything besides sit in Dean's room and mope, but he was quite glad he came. Goofing around with his coworkers actually seemed to pick up his spirits the tiniest bit.

"Thank you, Doc- uh, Richard," Cas muttered meekly when the ob-gyn shoved a "Double Doozie" M&M cookie sandwich into his hands. He studied the treat carefully, whilst attempting to avoid getting gobs of creamy icing all over his fingers.

"Please, just call me Gabe, everyone else does," the shorter man insisted. He stared as the surgeon lifted the treat to his nose and sniffed it cautiously. Gabe snorted in amusement. "Geez, relax Cassie, I didn't poison it or anything." Cas tilted his head and squinted at him, and the other man raised his hands up in apology. "Sorry, sensitive topic, I forgot."

"You're forgiven." The surgeon said, and then proceeded to dig out each M&M with his fingernails only to set them down on the counter in a perfect row of rainbow-colored candies.

"How is your ol' boy toy doing anyway?" Gabe questioned, eyeing the rejected candy.

"Castiel has a boy toy?" Interrupted Charlie, the neurosurgeon. She slid up next to Gabe and hooked an arm around his neck in a friendly gesture. "Aww. Our little boy is all grown up," the red head joked.

"And he's a good lookin' fella too, well, not as good looking as me of course, but I met him this one time when he attended an Ultrasound with his sister-in-law," Dr. Gabriel explained.

"And when do I get to meet him?"

Satisfied with the now complete absence of M&Ms, Cas nibbled on the top cookie. "He's in B-233 if you want to go see him now."

Charlie looked back and forth between the two other doctors. "He's here? Is he visiting someone or..?"

"He's the patient. Strychnine poisoning," Gabe supplied.

"Oh gosh I'm sorry!" She held her hands crossed over her heart. "That sucks, man. How'd that happen?"

Thankfully, Meg took this moment to step in and pull Castiel towards the other side of the room. He really didn't want to retell the story anyway. The serious expression on her face made him almost drop his dessert.

“Anna just texted me,” she said wide-eyed.

The doctor gasped in mock horror. “Did she really? How dare she utilize modern technology as a means of quick and easy communication.”

“Not the time, Clarence. She said she thinks she saw Crowley.”

“As I’ve told you, he’s out now.”

“No.” She leaned in closer to him. “He was _here._ Dropping off some flowers for –guess who- Dean fuh-reaking Winchester.”

Castiel’s face fell, and then was quickly replaced by confusion. “How- he doesn’t- he doesn’t even know him.”

“And apparently,” she continued, “he left a note.”

Before the others had a chance to protest, Cas was out the door, walking briskly towards B-233. Crowley? Here? And he knew who Dean was? And somehow he knew of his condition, too! How would he even get that information, unless he…

Castiel stopped in his tracks. This was not looking good.

This was not looking good at all.

He continued walking in long strides, each step bringing a new dreaded thought to mind. The hospital corridor became a long, swirling tunnel of distress and it brought a sick feeling to the doctor’s stomach. All of the what-if’s had his thoughts running a mile a minute and he prayed that every one of them was wrong. For both Castiel’s and Dean’s sake.

He nearly stumbled through the doorway of Dean’s room and saw Sam and Jess murmuring to each other beside the bed. The blonde noticed him first, and she immediately made her way to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“Hey Cas.” Somehow her voice soothed his nerves and he relaxed into the hug. He could smell her Marc Jacobs perfume in her straightened hair, a sweet flowery scent that seemed to match her personality.

“Hello Jessica.” She backed away and her husband stepped forward. “Sam,” he nodded in greeting.

“We talked to a police officer. He seemed pretty convinced this wasn’t an accident,” said the lawyer.

“It’s starting to look that way, yes.” Cas looked over to the windowsill where a small bouquet of flowers were displayed in a vase.

Jess followed his gaze and smiled warmly at the colorful flowers. “A nurse dropped those by just a minute ago. I don’t know who they’re from, it doesn’t say on the tag. It’s a sweet gesture though, isn’t it?”

Castiel stepped closer to the vase and spotted the envelope stuck in between two daisies. He slid it out, noticing it had already been opened.

“I tried reading the note, but unfortunately my knowledge of Latin is limited to what I use for my devil-worship,” she added with a short laugh.

“Luckily I took three semesters of it in college,” Cas said as he slid the paper out of the envelope. _And Crowley knows that, too._

In small handwriting, written in bold black pen:

_Finito die, erit justitia. Tu oportet fatigo ipsum te._

“What does it say?” Jessica asked, peering around Castiel’s shoulder. He set down the note and ran his hands down his face. “Cas?”

“Excuse me.” The surgeon stepped around the curious blonde and her confused husband and exited the room without another word. He knew now without a doubt it was all Crowley. And Dean wouldn’t be in his current state had he never met Cas, and the guilt overwhelmed the doctor. He headed straight for his office, a place where he could cry in peace.

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Dr. Relieved

Castiel's gaze drifted to outside the window, where a bird hopped onto a small tree branch and lifted its wing pluck at its itchy feathers. He tried not to sigh in boredom as Meg relayed her newest dating catastrophe to her best friend. The two sat in Dean's small sunlit hospital room (where else would Dr. Novak be found?) on a rather slow Thursday afternoon. Two weeks had passed since Crowley's ominous note, but every day stayed the same. Sam and Jess still constantly bickered, though they tried to be a bit quieter about it around the dark-haired surgeon. The police continued to "investigate," but found no reliable evidence. Cas still chose to spend his spare time sitting by the mechanic's bed, sometimes rambling about nothing in particular. Meg still had bad taste in men, and Dean still did not wake up.

"...So to apologize, he brought me an ugly chocolate cake with the word "Oops" written all sloppy in pink icing. Like, after all that, now he's calling me a fat ass! I took the cake and threw it on his pretty lil' camaro and smeared that shit aaaall over his windshield like I was making snow angels. It was _beautiful_ Clarence! He was so pissed, he had to drive home with like, baby diarrhea all over his car. So then later that day, I get a call from his brother Brady..."

Cas had been thinking a lot about how he wanted to tell the police it was Crowley, but to them, it would all just be suspicion. They relied on facts, but the doctor came up short. What was he supposed to say? _Crowley once gave Dean and me a weird look. Crowley may or may not have left me a note that may or may not be considered a threat. Sure, he may not know who the hell Dean is, or even his name for that matter, but I'm sure he had it out for him. Because...because of me._

So the only way to get the Brit back in a cell where he belonged, Castiel would need undeniable evidence. _How?_ That was the million dollar question. _How can I prove his guilt and guarantee the safety of Dean, myself, and anyone else that I care about from that monster?_

"Earth to Castiel. Clarence. Clarence! ….CAS!!"

His eyes darted back towards Meg and he straightened in his chair. "Yes, yes, that was a very moving tale about the cessation of Edward's and your relationship."

She frowned and rolled her eyes dramatically. "It's _Edgar_! Do you even listen to me when I speak?" She shook her head, answering her own question. "I swear you're about as responsive as loverboy over there."

He crossed his arms and gave her a stern look, but she interrupted him before he could scold her.

"Or maybe even less so, because if you would have been listening to me at ALL, you would have heard me point out the fact that Dean's EEG just went theta."

His heart skipped a beat and his eyebrows jumped to his forehead. "Wait, What?"

She stared at him expectantly. "I'm really not fucking with you this time. Come see for yourself."

Cas made his way from his chair to the EEG monitor in one big sort of leap, and gasped in surprise. Sure enough, Dean's brain waves had jumped to 4.3 hertz, indicating a theta speed. Meaning Dean was no longer comatose, but in a deep sleep.

All of Dean's numbers were slowly increasing with the heightened brain activity, and Castiel could hardly believe it. He could wake up soon! He _could._ There was always a chance...

"I should wake him up," The doctor said to himself, staring at Dean's sleeping face. He glanced back and forth between the monitor and the man lying in the bed. "I should wake him up," he repeated. He turned back to Meg, as if asking for her permission. "I mean, I'd hate for him to slip back into a coma."

The nurse glanced backwards before pointing to herself and shaking her head. "Don't ask me, ask Dr. Uriel. You know, Loverboy's _actual_ doctor."

"I think I'm going to wake him up."

"I'm on board with you Clarence, but don't you think you should follow proper procedures and, I don't know, _ask Doctor Uriel first?_ "

Cas crossed his arms defiantly. "Megan Masters, do you know how many hours I've spent inside and out of a classroom working towards my degree? Do you know how much tuition and fees I had to pay? Do you know how much I have sacrificed to earn a couple of letters after my name? I am Doctor Castiel Novak M.D. goddamnit, and I can wake up my boyfriend if I damn well PLEASE!"

A soft snore sounded from behind him, and he turned towards the noise. A short grunt followed, but Dean remained motionless. Castiel took two careful steps towards the bed and gently lowered his hand on top of the sheets.

The surgeon sent one last glance to his friend and cleared his throat. "Dean?"

The monitors continued to beep, now seeming quieter somehow, as if the machinery too waited anxiously for the mechanic to awaken.

"Dean." He said it more firmly, but his volume did not increase.

"He's been comatose for over two weeks, you're gonna have to try a little harder than that if you want to wake Sleeping Beauty," supplied Meg.

Cas licked his lips nervously and gently shook the sleeping lump. "Open your eyes, Dean Winchester, it's time to wake up."

"Mmhmmghuuuh..."

"Dean! Baby, hey hey hey..."

"Mmmm...nooo..."

"Yes, you have to wake up now, open your eyes, Dean." A moment passed before he heard Dean try to speak again.

"Nuh. No..." Castiel bent down so he could hear him better, when one word caught his attention. "Huhnn..h-help."

"Help? You need help? Open up your eyes, I can help you with whatever you need. Come on, sweetheart, look at me."

Cas reached a hand out to cup the other man's cheek, giving him some other sensation, something to keep him grounded. The other hand firmly gripped Dean's shoulder, tying him down to Earth and reality. "Wwhhere?" His voiced cracked from disuse and the dryness of his throat. "Can't. See."

"I'm right here. Open your eyes and you'll see me." Cas's thumb ghosted over Dean's eyelids, in a way reminding him of the body part he could control. The eyelids fluttered in response, but only opened a crack.

"That's it, Dean."

Then a familiar pair of lustrous emeralds appeared, staring vacantly for a moment at the face before him. Cas couldn't stop the toothy smile from overtaking his expression as he gazed gleefully at the blond man. Dean responded with what looked like his own attempt at a smile, even before the recognition crossed his features. "Cas?"

~

The pain was unbearable. Every muscle in his body ached, and blood ran from the holes in his flesh where the hooks kept him suspended, hanging there like Satan's hammock. Screams from somewhere below pierced through all his thoughts of hope, leaving him almost totally mentally numb. Some feelings of agony and hopelessness sifted through his scorched consciousness, surpassing the physical pain of being carved like a human jack-o-lantern. It was Hell, he was sure of it. He figured he would end up here, after all, he was responsible for his mother's death.

The demon, well, he assumed it was a demon, twirled the handle of his knife, smiling grimly and chuckling darkly to himself. He would taunt Dean in that slithering, slimy voice of his, and proceeded to mock him relentlessly. After he sliced, diced, and tore the man to shreds, the demon would declare, "Finished!" but then Dean's body would become whole again, and the torture would start over.

"You inspire me, Dean. I think I feel a bit _artistic_ today." The demon ran a hand over Dean's bare, newly healed torso. "I'll bet I can draw the Mona Lisa." The tip of the blade breached skin as the demon began to carve the world famous portrait into the man's body. He also thought it would be fun to "draw" every strand of hair on the woman's head, leaving a countless series of long, bloody cuts within his canvas. "Look here, Dean-O. I can now strum you like a guitar! Let's see what kind of sound I can produce."

Dean refused to look at the demon, and had no voice left to scream. Instead, he gazed thoughtlessly into the fiery abyss. It was when the demon was using his blood to do some shading on his masterpiece that Dean started to hear voices. Not cries of despair, not demonic laughter, but...voices. Two of them, they were...just talking. They were so faint, he was sure he'd imagined it. But then he noticed the beeping. A steady, constant _boop. Boop. Boop._ In all of the days he has suffered in this inferno -he lost track of how many- he's never heard a noise like that. It was something new. New was good, new meant change. Nothing could be worse than the hell he was experiencing. But no, he could not afford to think like that. It will only result in disappointment.

One of the voices grew louder. He strained to hear what it was saying; in doing so he had to ignore the soft spray of blood that flew from his chest to sprinkle onto his cheek. He didn't know, didn't want to know what the demon was doing to him now to cause it, but he closed his eyes tightly and searched out for the voice.

He cracked one eye open, but the blaze concealed whoever was speaking. Was that his name that he just heard? Someone was trying to communicate with him!

He was certain this time that someone had called his name. But whom? Where?

... _Open your eyes..._

He searched around frantically, but he only saw the demon, slashing away. Curiously, the creepy, bone-thin man-creature with the knife suddenly appeared less....opaque. In fact, even the fire started to burn less brightly. The voice spoke again, and this time, Dean noticed it had a sort of deep, gravelly tone, yet the way it spoke was soft and soothing somehow. Once upon a time, he knew that voice.

When he raised his head up again, he saw a figure that could only be described as a body of light. It was iridescent, vivid, all colors yet pure white. A brilliant, sparkling, incandescent _light._ It seemed to radiate all things good in the world. Love. Comfort. Safety. Hope.

"You...you can't be here. I demand you leave this place at once," the demon told the light.

"No." Dean surprised himself when he heard his own voice, but something about the light gave him courage. He wanted the essence to stay, he wanted to be closer to it. "No," He assuredly reaffirmed.

The demon scowled at him, before raising his blade, ready to strike the glowing orb.

"NO!" Dean shouted, but then he witnessed a miracle. The body of light instantly sprouted wings, wings so colossal they could have spanned a mile, and the demon immediately evaporated into nothingness. Or into the fire surrounding them, perhaps. His evil captor was gone forever, but he had no clue how to even begin to thank his savior. Dean gazed admiringly at the luminous essence, which he could now see slightly resembled a man. A man with massive wings. He suddenly felt shameful, suspended there, naked and bleeding profusely in front of this amazing creature. He had to put that aside, however, because this may be his only chance to leave the blazing pit of woe. "Help," he called weakly.

With a simple wave of his hand, the light, or angel, rather, instantly healed Dean's wounds, and the hooks disappeared. He found himself standing upright, without even a scratch as evidence of his torture. The angel reached forward and tightly gripped his shoulder, pulling him away from that place with lightning speed. Then, everything went black.

~

Castiel flung his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him to his chest. He silently thanked whatever deities that might exist for bringing the other man back from the brink of death. "You made it, Dean. I wasn't sure you would, but you did. Oh sweetheart, you did."

"I...what did I do?"

"You survived, princess." Cas had forgotten Meg was still in the room until she spoke. "Strychnine poisoning is an ugly bitch to deal with."

"P-Poison? How?"

Cas picked up his own cup of water and handed it to Dean. "That is still...under investigation," he answered carefully. "But you're alright now, and that's all I'm concerned about at the moment." He lowered the side rail so he could sit at the edge of the bed.

"Huh..." Dean looked around the room and at the wires and tubes attached to him. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a tiny sip. "How long was I out?"

Meg answered first. "The year is 2024. We all have microchips in our arms that we use as credit cards and IDs. Gas is eight bucks a gallon, Robin Thicke is the vice president and mullets are back in style."

He sputtered the water, causing it to leak down his scruffy chin. "Woah, really?"

Castiel shook his head quickly. "She's joking. It's only been a couple of weeks."

"Oh thank God....I hate mullets."

Cas chuckled and lightly stroked the other man's hair, which was getting just a bit long. He had really missed Dean's humor. "I'm glad to have you back, Dean."

"Aw, why'd you have to ruin it, Clarence? It would have been hilarious watching Dean totally shit his pants." The doctor sent the nurse another one of his scolding expressions, and she held up her hands to silence him before he could say anything. "Sorry, sorry. It's alright, I'm leaving now. I'll see you later, Dean-O."

After watching her depart, the doctor turned back and smiled at the blond. He would be content to merely staring  at the man until he fell back asleep, but he knew Dean would have questions....lots of questions.

"Wait, so you said I've been snoozing for _two weeks_?"

"Two and a half, really. Today is the second of July."

"No shit?"

Cas reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone, and showed the display to Dean.

"Damn...at least I can still throw my yearly Fourth-of-July party."

The surgeon slipped the cell phone back inside his coat and frowned sympathetically. "Dean, you _just now_ woke up. Your doctor doesn't even know you're awake yet. There are still lots of tests to be done and we may need to keep you here for observation for the next few days."

"What? I feel fine! a little tired, sure, and I could definitely eat a cheeseburger right now, but you can tell Doctor- Doctor whoever that everything is just friggin' dandy!" He finished the last of his water and reached to set the cup down on the side-table when he froze mid-stretch. Cas watched him suck in a breath and grimace like he was in pain.

"Spoke to soon?" The surgeon asked.

"It's nothing," he insisted. He slowly pulled his arm back, still holding the empty cup. "Just a little sore, that's all."

Cas gently took the cup from his hands and threw it away, eyeing the other man knowingly. "With the way you were convulsing, I'm sure your entire body must be more than just 'a little sore.'"

"Convulsing? What the hell even happened, Cas? And what about Sam and Jess? Do they even know I've been here?"

"Jessica and your brother have stopped by to see you every day, and they'll probably show up today around four thirty, when Sam gets off work. They're worried sick about you. Now before I tell you what happened, I need to know your honest pain level."

"C'mon man, it hurts kind of everywhere, yeah, but you gotta tell me- "

"Mr. Winchester, you're finally up!" Dr. Uriel stood in the doorway and behind him, Meg shrugged at Castiel's look of betrayal and sent him a glance that said, _Sorry, I had to._ "It's wonderful to finally meet you properly. I'm Doctor Uriel, and I have been taking care of you for the past couple of weeks." He held out his hand for Dean to shake, but the patient only smiled in greeting, hesitant to stretch his arm out again.

To Dean's disappointment, Cas was escorted out of the room shortly afterward so that Uriel could do vision, hearing, speech, memory, and other routine types of tests. If all goes well, Dean should be able to go home within a couple of days. Cas did later tell the story to Dean, avoiding the bits about the threatening note and his Crowley suspicions. The mechanic would worry too much, and probably do something crazy to get back at the salesman. For now, the surgeon decided, Crowley was his own problem to deal with. But Cas would have to be careful and conscious of the man's will to hurt him, and he could only hope that Dean or anybody else won't get caught in the line of fire again.

The question was, when will he strike again? This was the question that anchored itself in Castiel's mind, the one that would keep him awake at night. Then of course there's the _What will he do? How? What will be the consequences?_

_How will I be able to stop him?_

In the meantime, however, he would enjoy the precious time he had with Dean in case it would once again be jeopardized. And he had a dreadful feeling it would.


End file.
